Good Night Old Self Poem by RIC BASTASA

unlike before,

when i unlock a door
in a house where i have lived all alone
for years
i feel like crying
hearing the sound of the living room
in the anguish of the
silence that it has never chosen

there is always the imagined sound of rain and

it is eerie

there is a spiteful
space that is always trying to strangle you
a hollow hole inside
my guts

i must have gone beyond the demarcation line

or i must have jumped that fence
having grown longer

these pair of legs that have outgrown the
looseness of corduroy pants

now it is different

i feel the content of having to accept that when i was born
i never had a twin

now the silence of this room is comforting
telling me that the crowd in fact does not serve
but chokes you as well
with whatever whims it has

what to do with my life
or where to do things the way they should be properly done

i am fed up with all these dictates of the mob
i have proclaimed that i am a different reality

in fact more beautiful than the face of the average
the many, the crowding people

as i open this door, i hear the song of my own silence
sweeter than ever

i leave my dirty shoes
take off my stinking socks
i lie my body on the soft sofa
and take my sleep

i don't even need a television to make my eyes
weary and
thus have the much needed sleep.

good night old self. I shall dream anew.