get over myself

29 Dec


even at the beginning

edge of memory,

she was here,

making absurd

through the observing:



ill-fitting clothes of every era,

Polaroid snapshot gatherings,

grass and apple trees,

clubs and cliques and tube tops,

imagined crushes,

shameful invisibility.

Do you remember, she says, oh never mind,

we know together of

getting lost on purpose,

breaking down beside roads,

hating picnics for the trouble of it all,

or sucking the stuckness

of traffic jam hours –

inching inching inching

wanting to open the door and run away

leaving a car, a purse, a self behind?

Was she holding me in a

haze of ether,

as I was coming to and going out,

dreaming of awake,  awake and dreaming?

Here’s the gift of all these years –

freedom has always been mine.

The prison of duty was self made, by listening to the song:

do as we wish and good things will come to you…

I knew a song so much better than that –

Her hum was that song

remember – not to forget

in the comic book, flip-through life –

of confusion.

How else would I know to change except through discomfort?

How else would I come to know that me is

one instrument, learning to play itself,

except for the sullied

fingers across my keys – the discordant disymphony?

I feel the ivory for myself;

I may play one note for the next 10 years

who gives a goodgoddamn, ain’t nothing but my own composition

and never was anything else at all –

a sound wave disappearing from the ears


to become truly seen.

The face in the back becomes the face in the fore –

a journey to the laughter

that I AM.

6 Responses to “get over myself”

  1. smilecalm December 29, 2013 at 3:18 am #

    I enjoyed that 1!
    perhaps only
    a short hop
    rather than
    a high jump
    and that self
    will be cleared 🙂

    • marga t. December 29, 2013 at 3:42 am #

      a short hop and a helpful breeze at my back
      Love your Basho replies!

  2. britlight December 30, 2013 at 3:34 pm #

    “…clubs and cliques and tube tops,
    imagined crushes,
    shameful invisibility…”

    Did you peek inside my soul, Miss Marga? I often recall days of youth as being ‘vacant’…like I had an enormous void inside. Frequenting places, in low slung clothes, charming the ill-meant graces of men. How we have grown!

    • marga t. December 31, 2013 at 2:12 am #

      Perhaps we do peek into each other’s souls at times – and perhaps what we thought was a void was so immense and connected, we would be blown away by the sheer power of it. I so wonder whether my daughters will experience such a void as this – for I can truly relate to your words here. Seems such a different time for them with more space to express the inner reality to listening ears. How we have grown!

  3. Michael December 30, 2013 at 4:54 pm #

    You have ushered us into some place beautiful and vast. These words were like flowers thrown from a basket as the Self being Marga dashed past. It is hard not to be distracted by the flowers, to resist the urge to run out into the road and catch one before it hits the ground, only to discover when you catch it, it is disappearing, saying as it fades… “Peek-a-boo!”


    • marga t. December 31, 2013 at 2:17 am #

      You add so much with these words to me to my own experience, I am left wordless and smiling; such a visual, mysterious, delightful hide and seek game at dusk, as the dinner bell is calling us home!

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