Many dreamers

have lofty goals of status—

That’s not me.

Those from Lower Society

Want to Become Higher Society—

to go to ballroom dances

with champagne

and schmooze

with aristocrats. Think, F. Scott Fitzgerald

That poor bastard was chasing something he could never have

because it didn’t exist.

He wanted acceptance.

What a horrible thing.

Enough life experience has taught me

that people

are people—and there are some good ones

in the rotten wood, but most of them

are rotten.

The good ones

are a social class unto themselves

They have class

and they don’t care where people come from

even though

they know the rules

so well.

I would be content

with an island

of people

to watch

beautiful fish

to see in the sea

scuba diving, by the reef

where the sharks swim

tanning on the beach, where I might live forever.

I wouldn’t drive a Ferrari

from one place to another

but a bicycle.

I would write about island life

and play golf with the locals.

If I could watch

1000 sunsets

I would consider myself

wealthy.

I would shun the universities

and learn about

seashells.

Take away the sun

and your eyes begin to dim.

Take away the sand

and the wind

and give yourself four white walls

and you begin to feel trapped.

Tell a man

that

who he is

depends on other people

and he will go mad.

Maybe not, all the way

but it slows him down

until he watches TV on the couch

and forgets.

My brand of genius

is to do what I love

to make music

in the warm night

to write

with delight

and enjoy the sounds of society—

that hell

that drowns people

in a sea of despair.

I don’t want to save it.

I want to write about it.