Un-Relatable Poem

by Adam Scheffler

A man cobbles together his life together
as best he can, skimming
these shark–abandoned waves

but must so many pastimes lead
back to head–butting the walls of the
padded self ?

In the next version, you’ll play a videogame
where you’ll play yourself playing yourself

And I hate how touching, we stop feeling the other
person’s hand so soon, our bodies assuming
there’s nothing there unless it’s new

The way a man shoves another dorito into his craw

Or a priest rips another black note from his
reptilian brain and slips it into the church’s
suggestion box.

Once I too prayed to god, projected
my best self upwards and spread
it in the finest mirror–net over the nightsky,
looking back down on myself in bed.

Sometimes I still confuse women with goddesses,
or a dead sea–horse floating upside down
with the treble clef of my own happiness

But sometimes I better myself
by noticing things around me:

Look. Tonight’s ambulance spreads dancing jewels.

And across the park, circling the fountain,
two skateboarders have found rich
girlfriends and are balancing them in the air.