Wednesday, May 27, 2009

397. MICHAEL MICHAEL

MICHAEL MICHAEL
The neighbor wore a scarf; and no one
ever knew what sex he was. Called Michael by
some, I'd heard him also called Michelle.
He wove sweaters at the mill.
A mother once, let's assume it
was his, was heard to say : 'My God,
Michael, whatever will you grow up
to be? A fine an old man with a shortage
of age, or a wond'rous old woman
to whom nobody will pay heed?'
As if there was an answer to any
of that, others kept asking the same
sort of thing. He finally said 'If I listen
to you all, I'd do nothing else, all my days,
but try to figure things out. Just let me
be, and what I am you will see.
It will make wonderful sense to me.'

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