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Inner dialogue.

Individual narrative.

The private hell.

This brain map

A Being becoming.

A person in his mid fifties
having lived entirely in
the same region
blotting out voices
of passengers with convictions
imploring deviations from paths
from which multiple recognitions
have been described

you have denied
time and again
your frustration
opened wide–

“Your personality doesn’t match your body,”
someone says with resolution
“you look like Opie but sound like Mr. T”

It was 1980.

“I think I have seen you before in some other time
some other place, you look vaguely different
but I’m sure you’re the same as
you were 10 or so years ago
Down By the River
Around the Bend
Same Old Situation.”

–Knock it off. Life ain’t a tv show
Though I leave the tv on at night
to keep the homunculus’ skin

One of the passengers
a 30 year old man visualizes
his 30 year old reference model
and tells a straw teen to steer clear
of the left turn lane
while the receiving 56 year old
–56 years of ruts in his head
— he says, “I will not listen
to this again.”
And tells his childhood teachers
“no fucking duh”

Or, that is how it is taken
by the 30 year old who hears
“What street is..
(holds up hand) just tell me
where we’re at, Chief”
from a man who used to look
like Opie
and sounded like Mr. T

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