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Reclaiming Man:
Manhood is a boys dream:
You yearn for it, pretend to be one, and name it Palestine.
I conclude our pilgrimage and you propose a toast. So by all means,
Devour your pleasures, plunk beneath the slush bucket of manly concession,
The glory of twenty-one privileges our chosen signature for the macho
certificate of achievement.
And we will be content, so long as you don’t stop.
But I had to go to work the next day.
And I found a schedule bearing my name.
Those walking their forties still called when I was late,
Daybreak feeling akin to a warm drivers license, or my final pair of footsy pjs,
And despite my heightened ego I am not glowing.
So I elected to linger alone tonight.
My father wasn’t answering his phone,
Still punching hours at four o’clock.
I should do homework, but I’m a man now,
I alone dictate my time.
And I really don’t fancy homework.
I called, but you never rang.
I came to your place and found only the automobile,
Yours long enough to adopt a scent.
And by the sub-conscious discharges I often bear witness to
I knew your trunk could hold magazines beneath a phone bill two weeks old,
Accumulated courtesy of the romance dissolved three days hence,
Justifying the new xbox, the reason for an unpaid balance.
You claim men must not fret petty inconveniences
As you down another numbing shot.
I will do in kind, and gain courage,
For tomorrow we face hangovers, work, and another dose of anxiety.
What a ghastly joke.
We where once boys, now we are grown.
At thirteen we dodge chores, at twenty we miss work.
I stole mom’s cash, now I cheat taxes.
Is maturity defined by greater sins?
Then these magazines in the trunk prove you more a man than I.
You would live for today; you state that I am what I waste.
When I was a boy this was not my dream.
Munchkin psyche soared with dragons and slew demons;
I waved my plastic berretta with the fire of Aaron and Moses,
Commanding Pharaoh to free the Hebrews.
Today I am Joseph, in the well of the Egyptians, dreaming of heroes.
You idle beside me, claiming the mud doesn’t taste that bad,
While I peer above, swearing I saw the sky ten years ago.
I will climb the walls, you can come if you like, (I know you won’t)
And see if men can become what they create.
I know nothing of the surface, nor can you teach me.
Sages are scarce nowadays, but as Joseph I shall dream of purpose.
Lucifer stands in the sun; his hands clasp a coke and television set:
The weapons of complacency.
When I emerge bare before him I wield the words of my father,
Gaining strength since the days of youth.
And when I have slain my enemy these proverbs become my own.
Lucifer maintains his vigil beside the pit,
Waiting for you.
Yet from up here I see there was never a well;
Only a cradle, and you lie curled up with a Budweiser.
Today I come armed with a brush, tome, and the blueprints for a house.
You have not seen me in years.
But when you emerge I will tell you that I never became a man,
Instead I walk in manhood.
