Before I Read this Poem

by George David Miller

Before I read this poem, I want to tell you somethings
About myself.

I know — I’m like you
I can’t stand this confessional poetry crap
The inner recesses of the soul and all that.
I think the more you say
The more you hide from others and from yourself.
Nietzsche said nobody ever wrote an authentic
Autobiography.

My life isn’t a poem
It’s a clearance sale at Wal-Mart
Buying all the Easter stuff
At half price
The week after the big rock is supposed
To have been moved from the cave

While I’m always late for big sales,
I’m always right on time for the trivial things of life:
Mowing the lawn
Picking up the kids at soccer
Making sure the bras are snapped before they’re placed in
The washer
Buying tampons with half-price coupons.

I always feel like I’m relief pitcher
In the bullpen
Waiting and waiting and waiting
To get into the big game
For the big moment
But that big game
And that big moment
Don’t come for me

Or I’m the kid playing Candy Land
Who gets all the way to Ice Cream
At the top of the board
And then gets the Candy Canes card
And has to go back to the beginning.

My life is an endless series
Of trivial foreplay
It’s like those advertisements
For the abdominal wheel
That is supposed to give you a six pack
Like Adonis
But two months after you bought it
Ends up in the garage as a replacement wheel
For your wheelbarrow.
Or it’s like those religions
That tell us to look inside of ourselves
And we’ll find the kingdom of God
But when we look inside ourselves
Which we always imagine to be
A golden chateau in the clouds
All we find is a raised rance
In Bolingbrook.
It’s like the glistening glamorous
Face on the barstool
At the beginning of the evening
That by the end of the evening
Is a mirage of mascara
Dirty rivulets streaming down
Her cheeks.
Or it’s like the vociferous promises
Of politicians
Becoming the casual compromises of
Diluted legislation.
It’s like the beautiful rooms
On Home and Garden television
That you try to emulate
But end up having
Someone finish for you

The big moments of life are not:
When the walls of Jericho tumble
When Haley’s Comet sparkles across the sky
When a knockout punch fells a fighter
Or when Sisyphus’ boulder finally goes over the hill.

The big moments of life
Are not when the boulder clears the ridge
But when we tie our shoes
Spit on our hands
Take deep breaths
Flex our muscles
Focus all our energy
And do it all over again

Realizing
Each moment is history
Each moment is passion
Each action is meaning

With Big Mac breath
Tide scented clothes
And a Wal-Mart fanny pack
We can still raise our arms
To the heavens and scream
“I’ve lived, I’ve lived” —
Carving epic lives
From ordinary moments.

And that is the whole meaning of life
To be able to look to the heavens
And scream “I have lived, I have lived” —-
To have carved epic lives
From ordinary moments.

This is my life — and it’s your life too
This is my poem — and it’s your poem too.
And you still don’t know me
And I still don’t know myself.