What the Story Became

 

October 9, 1977  (I was 32)

 

         What the Story Became

The story became too typical to articulate

Images became abstract shapes, splashes of color

Vibrant camouflage for empty space

Onlookers thought, I could do that

And they despised anything they themselves could do

The story became humor and pain

camouflage for despair and self-pity

The story became as predictable as a print-out

an impulse between memory banks

easy to forget, too typical to articulate

The overfed body balloons out of proportion

Onlookers saw themselves reflected

it was a familiar story

with little to learn in the revival