Faux Alligator Leather With Velcro

Cosmic collisions have snuck up
Like cars in a roller derby,
Smashing my hood,
Twisting my gears,
Mangling what is.
There was a podcast asking,
“What is your ideal self?”
A book singing the praises of struggle
Friends personifying my conflicts
All too familiar in my Libra-Tao searching
Hopscotch through life.
All around I see my hypocrisy,
The king of sabotage
Wrecking more than I am probably aware.

The other day Kasey Kasem
Played a Jimmy Dean song,
Ole JD talked about IOUs in his wallet,
Some over thirty years old,
I bailed on the song, but
That same day, in a book I was listening to,
Leonel pulled pieces of poetry, each
Folded for safe keeping
From his wallet.
The poems, now tattered,
Offered prescient wisdom,
Thoughts to guide an emerging conscience.
The trifecta of this arrival of the cosmos
Happened when I click bait shopped for a new wallet,
Got schooled on the fashion statement that is money clips,
Advice about how I should be more like him
With a clip instead of a wallet.

Now

Graph paper is strewn about my desk
Each piece folded in half with lines and thoughts
Nobody else would dare try to understand,
A GQ article about Bob Weir
Said that he has the same kind of folder on his phone,
Pieces of this, that, whatever their purpose.
My maps are about characters, plots, conversations.
Ephemera too big for a wallet,
But so in touch with the idea
Of keeping this stuff safe
While it burns my brain until it’s ready to reveal itself or
I can’t take it anymore.
Which is right where I am,
Wondering why wallets have flooded my pleasure centers
While at the same time leaving me empty.

I’ve gathered the papers,
Cashing in on the idea that their ideas are there,
That they will speak to me like IOUs,
Brecht, or the Grateful Dead.
Perhaps the payback will be in the writing,
Perhaps someone will copy a line onto graph paper,
Fold it neatly, and
Slip it into a wallet without a money clip.
Maybe I’ll play that version of Black Muddy River,
The Hornsby version or the studio outtake by the Dead,
Put it on repeat and listen to it until this energy
Resolves itself and I can become aware of the next collision,
Cosmic or self-inflicted.
Either way, I’ll figure all this stuff out
And understand the reason why wallets have come to me
In this time and way.

I have to…
Smashed,
Mangled,
Twisted,
Ready to move on,
To get to summer,
To be the ideal version of me.

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