To Be Me (Revised) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Early Saturday morning, it seems no other being alive -
one dive, just one stupid dive into the pool let water into
my ear - oh frustration and irritation, Nutcracker Suite
DVD ordered has still to arrive, waiting for the Saturday
‘usual' routine to swallow me - shopping for the week,
planning meat or no meat, maybe fish or chicken, and
finally, reading my book - about balance between the
negative and positive as truer than one-sided rejection
of the negative - impossible in this dualistic universe as
degrees of everything are required to differentiate our
self from all else, but exercises a self-congratulating
author claims, like watching people and trees to become
one with everything, is a bit juvenile - so I skip these,
being a tree is a mystery to me, I cannot feel sap rising
just as I won't succeed in setting my astral self free to go
visiting, keeping the silver chord intact while roaming
free - whether considering being a tree or astral spirit,
all I can manage is to be me...