I wonder does she know
that they live with us -
all my other selves -
over on the stairway is the me that went totally insane
five years ago during the great stress
while I had to keep it together for my family.
He is looking quite relaxed today.
On the sofa is the me that quit his job
to write poetry and become involved in the theater.
( I am surprised he is here - he should be in New York)
Over there is the me that told everyone to **** off
and leave me alone.
On the second floor, looking out the bedroom window,
is the me that actually went to find
my birth father and tell him he was a **** for leaving my mother and me.
He is chatting with the me that sent his manuscript out to more than three agents before giving up.
The me that has worked out diligently for the last 30 years, playing football and basketball and soccer is over - no I’m making him up. He doesn’t exist.
They crowd every inch of every room
and more than a few hang from the ceiling
and now all her other selves are moving in as well.
I suppose that’s married life for you.