Let Me Be Wrong

 

Let me be wrong.

Let every thing I say reveal something I don’t want you to see.

When the shutter clicks,

Let my nervous, jealous, self-righteous vanity

Be written on a banner against the sky

God holding rabbit ears behind my head.

I’ll say impolite things

Shock us, be foolish,

Flop-sweating and stammering,

You’ll think I’m shallow, crass, tactless.

Next time you see me at a party

Lock yourself in a bathroom.

Good, I’ll say, good. Stay there.
Let me return to that soil again and again.

Half-formed hunches lurking on edges,

Half-known flails at revelation,

Stillborn, uncouth, unrecognizable

Not quite trustworthy,                                 

Not suitable for polite company.

Outside birds balance on the fence, watchful,

In the next room, my wife dries her hair;

I can see her bending so it drapes in front of her

Her skin wet and soft and familiar.

All around me objects call my attention,

From these words I have decided

For no particular reason are important

Let me dig. Let me find in layer upon layer

One decomposing thing after another,

Dirt, stone, lumps of shit.

Let me dive deep and come up filthy.

This is how you escape.

This is how you escape.

This is where the gold is.

There’s gold in here somewhere.