I will grant you…
a lot of this is my own fault.
I am not the easiest person with whom to connect…
I’m not a recluse,
exactly…
but I’m not far off, either.
I march to the beat of my own
humdrum;
given the choice,
I’ll take the gun and the cannoli
and go home.
I love travel, but only on my terms;
other people get in the way.
I love being an uncle,
because I don’t have to take the kids home at night.
I’m a loner,
and I thrive on loneliness.
As the man once said…
Hurts so good…
Perhaps poorly wired for friendship.
Deeply prone to oppositional thinking:
without conflict, I could not express fully who I am.
I am not,
as some have suggested, rather archly, a
“COMPLAINER.”
I am simply a warrior in search of battle,
a knight errant in squeaky armor,
with grails coming out of the woodwork.
I am never content with being content;
I must exercise
(exorcise?)
my passions
or shrivel and die in quiet.
But sometimes even I,
even I,
(as we all)
in the midst of screaming,
in the depths of self-imposed solitude,
need answering.
There are the clever few who know
the magic words:
I hear you…
