why i exist

i am crazy.

not putmeinawhiteroomwithliquidclockeyes

andspongesforhands crazy.

or manilafacefolder crazy.

or straightjacketbangs crazy.

it’s just that i really don’t

believe in businesscard futures

or resume pasts

or goldenparachuteretirement rainbowlands.

it’s why i don’t fit in so well.

why i sit in a room without lights

tapping out this morse code message

to a reader i

may never meet or see.

write now.

i mean think

about it

all.

i don’t really care about promotions or social status or money.

although i do want to finish paying for my kids in college.

and gradschool if they want. and maybe a jeep someday.

but what i really think i’d like is an art barn in vermont

and i would just paint all day and sometimes

my work would end up in a woodstock gallery.

i mean, i lived with my brain for almost sixty-two years

so i know by now i’ll never run out of ideas.

so i’m not scared. but maybe i won’t share this

with my wife or my colleagues.

because really, it’s not my fault.

i blame the ancient astronauts

who came down before

jesus and messed

with genetic trees

by mating

with

us.

but hey, i warned you with

that title. and i basically announced

it in the first stanza.

besides and in addition and

in subtraction and multiplication,

if everyone thought the same,

and acted the same,

what would there be to teach?

and to whom?

and darwin would say we’d be toast

as a species.

so crazy is

more than good.

it’s essential.

your turn