content living, not too out of balance
giant sand bags either ends of the balance beam
weight, some sort of a weight, that I remember so well, that I focused on in the theatre, that I sang about and stomped my feet about, and received applause

Some of that energy is gone, and it can never be had back, some of that madness, some of that desire to ******, to die, to set everything on fire

gone now, too much to lose, to content, to full from the last meal, looking forward to more ***, another poem, perhaps

but then, then it was scribbles, it wasn’t even poetry!  It was pure madness, directly from the source, it was brilliant, I thought of myself as brilliant, that’s for **** sure.

and people would ask “what were you writing?” and I don’t remember what I would answer, but I was too embarrassed to say something poignant or ambitious or cool

Content living, when the living room is balanced
Synchronized, the carpet, the flower, the plant next to the couch, everything handy, the beer in the fridge, all fine, fine.  And I have plans to be a teacher, and that also is fine, and I might audition for things, and that is fine too, and Ilyse is beautiful, and I love my mother.

Normal, a normal man

so what is it now?  A wisdom?  probably that, yes