Walking to the Beat of My Own Drummer

I had one of those days. This poem kept popping into my head at the most inappropriate times. It was a poem we studied in high school and it has stayed with me through the years, like a comfortable pair of shoes, that can be worn with numerous outfits.
My lack of attention only gave credence to those around me who already feel I'm a bit fey. I had to make inane observations to fool my companions into believing I was aware of my surroundings. I'm sure the randomness of my observations didn't exactly inspire their confidence either; but it was better than stating this poem solemnly while eating my lunch at Panera. Actually, it was a bit of a relief for me to have this poem in my head as it seemed to silence my 'internal 'tourettes' for a time. You know how Ally McBeal used to walk around with a theme song playing in her head? Well, what I hear is far less noble. Lately, I've had a running litany of profanity streaming through my consciousness. My footsteps are often accompanied by the staccatoed rhythm of, "Dumb ass, dumb ass, dumb ass...", or far worse.

And yes, I'm praying about it.


Stephen Crane
In the Desert

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter – bitter", he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."