I’ve thought of fallen civilizations.
The conquers of Rome, architectures of Egypt, and
the languages of Mesopotamia.
I’ve read about the madness of Hitler,
and the dramas of Shakespeare.
I’ve belittled Edgar Allen
and idolized Bukowski.
I have paid attention to worthless art
and ignored brilliance in galleries.
I’ve sat on the couch and taken in the world,
and I’ve traveled the world and taken on their couches.
I’ve had sleepless nights on Park Ave.,
and I have slept the night soundly on park benches.
I have waked up to s shot of whiskey,
and gone to bed with a cup of coffee.
I have listened to quantum theories,
and questioned religions, gods, and spiritualities.
I have experienced happiness,
and I have dwelled in sadness.
I have been surrounded by friends,
and realized I have none.
I have won a lot of fights,
but I have lost even more.
I have loved so many,
but I have hated so many more.
I have eaten from silver spoons,
and I have survived using plastic.
I have stolen for no reason,
and for some reason people have stolen from me.
I have stood up for what I think is right
and I have practiced admitting being wrong.
I have understood so much,
and have been told I know nothing.