The Impossibility of Being Earnest

My fingernails are jagged, like a handful of split ends.
Conditioner lathers self-consciously,
and I think of hopes reclaimed when strangers speak your name.

Experimentation:
subjecting yourself
to basketweaving
when you have little else
but cardboard after cardboard
tissue paper rolls
because you wince
from the nippy old static
we feel when discarding
all that could be.

Something else.

You look at the flower you’ve drawn, one petal too big.
Mistakes give life to waking up early,
and I fear, yet welcome these quivering follies.

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7 thoughts on “The Impossibility of Being Earnest

  1. A lesson I learned about writing years ago was the following — “Writing is taking something that has been written a thousands times before, and saying it – differently….”

    You do that. I like the way you described certain elements in this writing. I never thought of “conditioner” being alive until now…And the idea of using a roll of paper as a metaphor is very interesting.

    In other words I like this. 🙂

    (And I just woke up. I hope I am coherent!)

    Like

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