When I was a young man; my days yet unnumbered.
I lived my life as if I was never going to die. But now
even if I should live forever; I’m still down to such
a precious few and I owe it to those who’ll survive me
to tell them the truth. I never should have lied.
I lied to cover my sensitivity to light; dark shades
were my closest friends. I lied to bury the dead;
that they might live forever. In part to be remembered,
for more than being a lousy aim and missing the meat
between my ears with their final shot at life. I lied
to protect the guilty side of that tiny bit of innocence in me
and for carrying all the naked pictures in my wallet and heart;
images of my love for those people and things….
I could never buy or own.
I lied, when I was a young man; my day already counted
and numbered like the hair on my head….

2008 © TS

Ted Sheridan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coup-de-gr-ce-and-vichyssoise-served-cold/