The door of a fifth wheel trailer clanged open from across the street, and a man that looked a few years older than me with a shaved head and clumsy stature ambled out of the trailer. He left the door wide open, and on the small concrete patio next to the trailer took a hit off of a pipe filled with ****. He exhaled a few moments later, and let the *** smoke join the cotton tree seeds in the afternoon air. I watched all of this with moderate disinterest, and then plunged back into Buk’s evocations of the old gods as the man plunged back into the trailer. He left the door open.
More activity quickly followed, however, and I scarcely made it through another poem before the noise arrived at my spot. Apparently the man had begun to act reckless, and an elderly lady began chastising him about his behavior.
“Shawn, knock it off! You’re going to break something,” the woman intoned. It was almost a whine really, and at the sound of her voice I was almost tempted to go assist Shawn in breaking some of her things. Shawn replied with odd laughter, and a crash could be heard from inside the trailer. He then stumbled outside, and started behaving like a four year old boy would. He picked up a few things that lay scattered about the trailer, and then immediately lost interest in them and threw them back down with reckless abandon.
“You’re being reckless, Shawn. Stop it.” The woman obviously shared my critique of his actions.
Shawn didn’t stop it, whatever that was, and kept rummaging through things before tossing them about. He fell down as he tripped over a few of the things he threw aside, and screamed “Fuuuuuuucckkkkkk!!!” Yep. He was acting just like a four year old boy; full of ****, vinegar, and conquest right up until the world socked him one in the mouth.
“You’re going to hurt yourself! Cut it out!” It was funny how she kept saying essentially the same things in the same tone of voice, but I was glad at least that her attention had shifted away from material possessions. I mused to myself that some people just can’t handle their ****, and attempted to try and lose myself between the dry pages of a decades old library book again.
The universe must have had other plans for all of that though. The man kept staggering into things and screaming ****** ****** when he fell over, while the woman kept at her nasally whine. Only occasionally was her existence even acknowledged by Shawn, and this was done through the clever use of the phrase, “*******!” After spewing forth a vulgarity he would then resume his parade as ruler and champion of all; subject to only the merciless force of gravity and his drug addled mind.
My peace was disturbed by these shouts of anger, self induced failure, and recrimination, but the peace was replaced with a subtle interest. Overall, I wished the whole thing to stop, or that I had my key with me and could simply ignore the calamity of it all, but since neither of these two things would occur I felt as though I should break from my reading and enjoy the spectacle of life around me. Apparently, however, this other elderly man’s peace was far more disturbed than mine, and he walked over to ask the lady if she needed help, not realizing that he was not solving anything, but merely adding to the production unfolding before my eyes. The man and the woman spoke for a bit as Shawn ran about, stumbling into the trailer before finally managing to step inside of it. The woman mentioned to the man something about Shawn being a diabetic and that he hadn’t had anything to eat today, and then she asked Shawn for the sugar. Shawn’s hand promptly popped out of the trailer and presented a pink box of sugar. He was completely oblivious to the fact that the sugar was really for him, and so the woman then asked Shawn to eat some of it, which brought back a warranted, “*******!” Shawn then jumped out of the trailer, clearing the miniscule metal step-ladder which was placed at the door for easier access, landed, lost his balance, sputtered around on his feet for a second, caught his balance, and then ambled towards the back of the trailer where he tripped over something and fell to the ground, catching the corner of the trailer with his body on the way down.
“OOOOWWWWWWIIIIEEEE!!!!” He screamed from the ground. I felt like applauding, but instead resolved to keep my response limited to stifled laughter. Shawn stood back up, took another two steps so that the trailer blocked his body from my line of sight, and I heard him hit something hard and metal before again screaming, “FUUUCCKKK!! OUCH OUCH OUUUUCH!!!” The urge to applaud came up again,  but I couldn’t disturb the production by breaking the fourth wall between myself and the actors.
“I just…” the lady sighed with her hands running through her hair, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him…”
The old man asked, “Is there anyone you want to call?”
“I don’t know…” Both hands came to rest in her hair at the back of her head.
“You could call an ambulance.”
“I know… Just… Shawn! Eat some sugar, hon.”
“*******!!” Shawn darted back inside the trailer.

I am not Shawn
I have ceased to be
And am instead
What you see now
When you see me

I am not Shawn
I am audacity
To speak my mind
To speak my feelings
To speak my truth
Yet ****** by all three

I am not Shawn
I am lunacy
My thoughts and logics
Played down or dismissed
In lieu of the only truth
Allowed to support another's reality

I am not Shawn
I am infidelity
Years ago guilty of this crime
But living today like yesterday
Is the present and
I need reminders of my culpability

I am not Shawn
I am cruelty
A now tolerated trespasser
To peace in a home
Built on hurt pride and offenses
Enumerated and idolized meticulously

I am not Shawn
I am the vocabulary
Of confused words
And claimed miscommunication
On one hand, suggested intelligence
But in conflict only ignorant inadequacy

I am not Shawn
I am expectancy
Placed uncomfortably
Into an imploring posture
As I seek morsels of golden attention
Choosing my words ever so carefully

I am not Shawn
I am a mockery
Whose tears have a faucet
And whose humility
Is reserved for moments
Of game playing and emotional treachery

I am not Shawn
I am mystery
It's suggested I'm harmfully hiding
That which oneness should know & see
When in fact it's the fault of judgment
He too hides within feigned transparency

I am not Shawn
I am fragility
Painted weak
Old and forgetful
Glances at my softening frame
Constant jokes of reverie

I am not Shawn
I am improbability
Haven't consistently grown
In areas of others' choosing
Not my own. Left to get it
Together spiritually, eventually...maybe.

I am not Shawn
I am hypocrisy
For blameless one may live
If the same offense may be found
In the person claiming offense
The mirror not inward facing but outwardly

I am not Shawn
I am an apology
For all the many actions
And faulty statements
Which so quickly offend the same one
Less prone to act just as responsibly

I am not Shawn
I am an enemy
Pushed away
Constantly distanced
An outsider and forced partner
In this abandonment dance and fantasy

I am not Shawn
I am make-believe
Merely an actress given a script
Fashioned of lines another prepares
For me

For I am not Shawn

You have given me a new name...

History