THAT’S NOT ME
THAT’S NOT ME


“That’s not me”, I hear you exclaim
Who is it, I enquire; looks suspiciously similar
You stammer, fumble, paise am moment,
And say, “It is my evil twin brother”
Twin brother, I repeat, consults the file
Strange, there’s no mention here
Of a brother, ‘tis true, a sister you have
You aren’t getting confused, are you?
No, sir, confused I am not; tell me,
what have you got? The details of my life?
Pictures and interviews with people
I barely knew, and most probably have forgotten
Pictures of when I was young, ask “is that you?”
And expect a reply. Well, damn you, sir, my reply
Is yes and no! It shows the actuality and potential
Of my trying to be” me. A constant of being and not being.
Yes, I did like loud music in my youth and early adulthood
Playing Led Zeppelin 3 full blast on a battery-powered reco
rd player
(There were such things). What is this examination to prove?
As the years went by, I changed. I prefer the verb, “evolved”
I Learned to cope with increasingly complex equations and situations
I’m still learning, in my elder years; I shall continue to continue to learn
All those persons that I was, still remain. My attempt at maintaining a balance
And peace among them still requires my constant awareness
“That’s not me”, I hear you exclaim. Who is it, I enquire?
“Someone, I once knew well; we are long parted”
Separated by broken dreams and disappointment
Held together by a determined will to continue
I feel like Schrodinger’s cat: I’m there, but I’m not
So, take your damned photos and your poxy folder
And shove it in a hole. Some, I am told, have paper shredders
Let me be, or not, what I want. I promise to behave