“Ten Lessons.”

One.
The talent to win a heart
is equal to or less than
the ability to sing a song
while keeping another in the room.

Two.
When ambition is in peril,
sit inside an ice cold bath.
If melancholy remains,
slip your head below the water.
If you still feel drained,
take one deep breathe in—
and laugh out loud
about the bubbles.

Three.

If nobody else believes in you,
do not kill yourself
before moving to another city,
working a 9-5 job for the man,
and then trying ambition
all over again.

Four.
The talent to touch someone
is equal to or less than
the ability to instruct them
on what they really needed
before they ever met you.

Five.
If someone constantly says,
“I miss you,”
inquire for the specifics.
If they cannot answer,
run.

Six.
If you cannot run
because of location or physical impairment,
surrender your heart to one who can—
and then ask them about the air.

Seven.
If a loved one will not love you,
write them a poem
about how desperately
you want them to die.

Eight.
Before crossing the street,
push the man next to you
in front of the city bus.
Chances are, traffic will slow.

Nine.
Love is unkind.
Greet it with discipline
and abandon it
with merriment.
But always treat it
with reverence.

Ten.
Masturbate once or twice a day,
fantasizing about your limitless potential.
If you do not have limitless potential,
walk downstairs
and have dinner with your spouse and children.

narrative poem written on 03-26-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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