Blast for the Past, Kate Braverman

"TRUE STORY"

The Chosen

There where he waited to be born,
a pilot or minister of poetry
shrugging off his duties,
an aristocrat. We who stood
in line also wore baggy clothes,
clung to each and every whisper
time to go time to go (chorus)
excited particles and shot
into the universe in all directions.

As I stand in front of the post
to hand my brother a few bucks
amongst the beggars
who still cling to each other's sides
as if success might rub off
on them one electron at a time,
a fellow poet cautions me not to
write of my philosophy
and instead, I do.