change you will
your underwear, your oil, your car, your wife, your children,
your underarm deodorant, your overalls,
your designation, your birthmarks, your will & estate,
your long-range goals, your hard-boiled eggs,
your nails and soup, your rusty soles,
your dusty shoes, your trusty dog,
your 9-life cat, your coat and hat,
your car & rails and suit and tails
your cigar & wine, perfume fine;
the glint in your eyes,
your crafty disguise,
your know-it-all
see-it-all, be-it-all
free-it-all, try-it-all
dyed and colored,
pinched and pricked
prodded and picked
knocked and nicked
facsimile of
you.
life will change
you will change
the lines on your face
will never stay the same
but still you’ll play the game
of answering the phone
with your same old name
“it’s me” you’ll say,
convincingly.
there will be a long, pregnant pause.
the voice on the the other end will say,
“and, who are you…?”