Is It Too Late To Change My Name

Life Poem

I always knew something was off.
The shoe never fit.
When friends approached
the answering machine message
to leave one after the beep
never rang a bell.

I addressed them with a limp, tripped over
the disconnect between
what I said and
what I thought,
dragged myself over a speed bump
not saying hello,
or stating
who I was,

because who I was
couldn’t really be explained
in a birth assigned name,
on a ticket’s signature
secretly.
I had the wrong name
this whole time, I was a Ben
or maybe a Seth, a Stephen?
No, not Stephen.

Something special,
distinguished and thorough and
thought provoking and, yes,
something that sparks wondrous curiosity,
something that would hint
to the mysteries of the universe
in my mind.

 

more by joeyyoungguitar

photograph by Sandis Helvigs

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