Seen From Above
Seen from above all things become clearer
Why the tiny village roads have sinuous curves
Why villages fight over property lines
Why the traffic chokes in the streets of Rome
It is perpetual winter here, and the sun shines bright
Where a few lucky souls dine on veal and drink
Merlot from good vineyards in France
And others spend miserable hours smelling farts
I like to lie down, my head tilted away from all
Eyes buried deep into a book, a headphone
Protects me from the sounds of others
All so I can weep and still pretend to be man
I apologize to my neighbor for I haven’t been very neighborly
Commenting on the fine bouquet of the new wine
Or how they serve salmon ever so cutely
And of course, aren’t these stewardesses old?
Seen from here all things become clear
The loneliness, the thread-bareness of the soul
The hollow need to love, be loved, to include
Be included
To not apologize
To justify
To go-for-it
To reach-out and to pounce-on
To get invited, to exclude
To look down, to pretend, to show-off
And at the end, after all that drama
To still feel naked inside
Like there is nothing to any of this
And all that matters is how much
You love yourself
Without conditions and without expectations
The dead don’t communicate
They have better things to do
And the ghosts of the past have lost
Their fangs and scary eye-glow
But seen from above
It is clear
That all that is scary
Is how I still manage to scare myself
For I have nothing else to cry for
Unless I cry about this lost love
For me.
