dan majka is famous!

Dan Majka is famous! reads the e-mail subject line-

nearly strain my index finger with a fidget to decline it

and delete it- drowning in his well-wishes-

could spend hours on the phone

finding ways I might compete with-

but I’m rusting in a coffee shop which may as well be home-

just biding time ‘til better ways appear for investment in my life-

generational angst transfigured ‘til it becomes my own.

Dan Majka is famous!; I’m just fulfilling my role-

simply falling apart here, fingers wet from pickle bowl

ears burning from so much baby-talky, Bible-talk treacle-

served up with sociological, heebie-jeebie rock-n-roll.

Dan Majka is famous! and I’m losing control-

cheap coffee shop napkin tears like my resolve.

dedication spent- greasy fingers make holes

tears in descent, I fondle untouched sandwich crusts-

overload for the stomach and for the soul.

Dan Majka is famous; my life is a sitting duck sinecure

I just don’t see the point of debate-

if Dan is famous- what does that make me?

An eavesdropper on strangers’ tales of aftershocks and despair-

proving themselves they’re ok with “a quick prayer, then outta there.”

Could I be ok too- if I dared to believe

in fairy tales and pop-psychology and comfort food?

Dan Majka is famous! Oh, like I really care…

* * *

Written stream-of-conscious listening to several different conversations around me and reading an email.