The Rules of Elevation
A man can not help being short
Some poll stated it takes an additional $40,000 of income a
year
For a man to be equally favorable to a taller counterpart
for every
Inch in height he is below five foot ten
And men are labeled the shallow gender
Fat can be helped, portly can be de-plumped
Short can not be stretched and no matter my words or speech
Or common relative reach difference is rarely dented
Easier to be alone than be beaten by the tides that bind
These ankles to the ocean floor drowning down this gasp for
air
In the liquid over coat ceiling a few inches under and the
world
Is thrown asunder in the maelstrom of munchkin consumption
Brash tactics and anti-climatic assumptions of measurements
of a man
I have lost all hope in this sea slosh slump grated down
below as runt
So you dismiss me short and I will dismiss you fat, how fair
is that?
Maybe it means I could gain some weight and be as equally
undesirable
Maybe I could lie to myself in stations of greed, to become
self obsessive
And ignore the needs of every pound of humanity washing
around these eyes
Thicken up and consolidate this lonely into a sus pen of
singular intent
Wallow in the mire of self-satiated desires rolling over in
an undertow
Riptide that will not let go of this cadaver barrel roll
crocodile grip
In this perfunctory lagoon of shortened what ifs
Never going to grow, just truncate this mind back to those
days and these times
I bathe in reluctant acceptance of the answer to every
question
Is an eight ball of no’s echoed in a torpedo engulfing this
submarine
In a breath of brick humidity, no bubbles just a dumb voice
that you won’t be hearing
Flatten me now, refusing to continue this ruse of rules as
if character or position
Or willingness to listen factored in as much as a couple of
inches
All of it bricks upon bricks of these lies we live with, shadow
cast
Swallowed in the darkness of everyone’s pass of irrelevant
preoccupations
That bear no bearing to underlying realities
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