“a great fall”

I do not live to win.
Up until a couple years ago,
I think I did.
But now, five years older,
I do not live to win
anymore.

I think I just needed to find out
if I could win. If I could gain
any acceptance—
and after I did,
this quest to win
did not take on such significance
anymore.

So, I moved away—
satisfied that I had made the best
of what I had done up until then.
Actually, the true reasons why
I had to move away
are still
far too complicated
for me to explain.

A man needs to win
at something, though,
just so that he knows
how to rightfully appreciate
his life as a loser, afterward.
And yes,
there is always an afterward.
Do not kid yourself the same way
others do.

It is here, that I am— now—
living not to win,
but for the morning coffee,
the good poem before noon,
the painting once a month,
and doing a little work for food.
That is all I am—
just a slow roasting man,
taking my time
before I set out
again;
To prove the first time
was not a fluke—
and that it is never
too late
to demonstrate how a man
creates his life’s work.

The spotlight, I must admit,
was nice—
but one should not hold there
too long. It gets warm— and
dehydrating.
A man’s life needs to stay wet
to keep his work
from drying up
like the rest.

I prefer to sit in my apartment,
full of failure, belated promise,
postponement,
and my string of guests
who never stay long enough
to learn the full name
of the man cooking scrambled eggs.

I prefer what I am now—
but gravity does have a law.
What goes up
must come down--
and from there,
it is just a matter
of how much bounce you have left—
or else how much glue
that all the king’s men
can collect for you.

I am still sorting out
the bigger picture
this jigsaw puzzle
supposedly builds.

narrative poem written on 10-22-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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a great fall | poem by Matt Kane Fine Art

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