I Am The Most Ordinary Person That You Meet On The Street Poem by RIC BASTASA

Reading my poems, my essays, my comments, my biography
She thinks
I am a manic
Depressive
one infested
with a bipolar
personality
neurotic
to the
utmost
psychotic

insane crazy lost bewildered out of this world
out of touch in limbo unleashed unsheathed
out of touch out of this world

o my god
o my!

She is wrong
Completely wrong

I am the most normal, ordinary person that she can meet
on the street
In her normal life

I work in an office
With a coat and tie
My hair is shiny
With gel
My hands soft
With ease and comfort
I smell perfume
My nails are clean
You cannot even tell
That these are the fingers
That compose
The hand that composed

Those poems
Political, sadistic, masochistic
Love, libido, desire
Nature, carabaos, birds
Violence, war
Irony, paradox
Rape, murder
Food and shit
White sands
And long long vacations

I have the perfect smile
The male version of mona lisa
I have the poise of
David not Goliath

And you wonder this man is not the poet in the poems that he
Writes
I expect him to have
The looks of a madman
Scattered hair
Looking shit
Foul shit
Emaciated
Eyes with bags
Insomniac
Hot tempered

Oh my God
I have the face of angel today
And the people always tell me
I am God’s gift to them

On this I agree
Indeed I am no madman

I am a trance in that poem
I am the medium of the higher voice
I am simply an instrument
And as I write every word
I know nothing
I am not responsible for every word in my brain
I am a tool
I am a knife
I am a gun
I am a chewing gum
I am a boat
I am a motorbike
I am simply the stenographer for every word that I write

For I am merely a voice
From those who cannot speak
I am merely the messenger
For those who are souls
I am just a body
To their wisdom

I speak
What I have is only the courage to be an instrument

When all of them are gone
I am dumb
I am myself
I am the most normal person that you meet

In fact, indeed, in truth,

I am just a nobody.