Narcissit? Who me?

Monday, October 11, 2010


When I am old-much older-
And look down from up above,
I will be terribly ashamed
at what's left for those I love.

A stack of paper four feet tall,
unfinished tales and troubles,
the manuscripts of genius skill
akin to Flintstone, or of Rubble.

I think of when I'm carried out
my feet leading out the door
And the faces of my inheritors
that were expecting more.

Sorry nieces and nephews,
I wasn't much for hoarding money.
Instead I tried, insipidly,
at trying to be funny...

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