Letter of Resignation
(On my third reading of Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse)
Is it really necessary
We live in this hut together?
Isn’t it enough
I gave you my clothes
For the privilege of tending oar?
Can I only find myself
In the eternal now of the river
Always flowing, but never the same?
Must I sit under that tree
For an entire week to find myself?
After a week, I should have found my navel by now.
Must I sit there to
Defeat my demons? Afterall, they are
At my heels no matter where I happen to be.
Grows from mud, I know,
But I want a bath and clean soft towels.
Why can’t I find myself
In a club somewhere,
Meditating in the beat and the groove?
What about the
Constant flow of people and machines,
The never-ending now of the ever-changing traffic?
Why can’t I
Subdue my demons
Over a great meal or between olive thighs?
You snore horribly.