WHAT'S INSIDE?
I come inside to pay my bills, at
a little desk in the corner. I come
inside to put things away as cutely
as Little Jack Horner; but what's
inside of me and where else can
I go? So many things are left
outside, vulnerable and almost
forgotten. My own words, ribald
or tame, cannot withstand that
much exposure. But where can
I place my inner feelings?
-
So many things I do already know:
body parts and diagrams and where
this is and where that goes. But, still,
at heart, I'm a restless soul more yet
worried about hiding than to where it
is I am riding. More than that? Yes, I
come inside to eat, or chat, or maybe
sit around, and sleep. That's all natural.
-
What I want to know is - really now -
where to go to keep my secret things
so safe and sound that they'd never
be secreted - no matter what else
is found. I ask again? What's inside
of me?
of me?
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