Pretense

There were those days, so many days I’ve

lost count of where or when, those stifling

times I dressed in a suit and tie to make a

fine impression. And, as long as I kept my

opinions to myself, I believed that I was

welcomed and belonged. I ate with a fork

in my left hand, kept from slouching with

my elbows firmly at my side. There were

those days I seemed to fit perfectly into place

with my shirt tucked in, days when I would

piously genuflect entering church, and I’d

kneel properly in prayer. I blessed myself

with the sign of the cross at the beginning

of the Hail Marys and once again at the end.

This I figured was how I became acceptable

and managed to make it in life thusfar. I got

jobs with an agreeable nod of the head and a

firm handshake customarily applied. At times

I would laugh at the bosses jokes which were

not funny at all. Often, so many times I did

what I perceived I needed to do to fit in. In the

theater, I would applaud at all the right times.

I stood and was seated when I was told. But

when I was alone and on my own, I might eat

with my fingers and occasionally pick my nose.

In private I could scratch anywhere I itched

without reproach. And and generally I could do

that which I damned well felt I needed to do.

(Screw it and you!) It is now in the retirement

cocoon of my old age I am transformed and can

fully appreciate lovely blooming gardens of my

own imaginings. This here life on Earth has led

me to recognize that somehow everything fits as

it should seamlessly into place. Even the pain in

my joints has settled into where it is was inevitably

meant to be. I am now, however, allowed the luxury

of ripping off that choking tie and tossing it aside.

I can now fart outloud, and eat with my fingers

whenever I damn well please.

Chris Hanch 7-31-18,