This poem, from David Rivard's fifth book, Otherwise Elsewhere, sums up how I start to feel ( as a green midge/ or/ as a pine tree) on book tours.
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| In Quebec, en route home to Maine, after reading in Montreal. |
NOTE TO MYSELF
Having survived self-
esteem (both low & high), like
surfacing
out of a to-do
list for civil war
in the heart—
Having
been a back-stabber (when said
back was my own) or
lucky Darwinian
holder of
the Ace of Spades,
in my mind—
Getting to see myself
as a green midge
or
as a pine tree looming like
a fetching samurai
at the edge
of a meadow—I get a little
tired--& strangely
everywhere I go
seems one
step closer to wherever I
thought
I was when I left
for wherever
I wanted to be.
Given the round
ranginess of earth, always
thinking of myself—
that’s it for me, tho. Enough. No
more, thank you. No, really.
