I'm a porch distance
from other witnesses
trying to commit this
human wisdom
to other men.

I'm a poet
always writing,
inviting others in
to a shared understanding
but it doesn't matter
if I master
the technical skills,
if I can't relate
to what other people feel.

Then I'm still
just a second-rate hack
wearing an off-gray hat,
a Mayberry man
with two hands
on my gun belt
as I shoot myself,
whilst dumbfoundedly
wondering “how am I
going to come back
from that?”