Impersonating What's Left Of Myself

I still do things the way I used to, just,
not as well…the hologram has holes
in it…fuzzy logic…sometimes sharp
as always, but not as often…

I don’t have enough medals to think
that I might have been something,
someone, once…which is fine with me:
just one more thing less to loose.

I hold up an “Anonymous” mask…
when I pull it down
I don’t see anything
in the mirror.

I can smell your house from here…
I can get to my house from there, or,
So it’s said…listening to a version of
“Wharf Rat” impersonating the Grateful Dead:

So It Goes…
in warm corn or
blue bayou…
hungry, fed,
fed up, almost dead,
I’m laughing because
this is the joke, as
Trungpa said.