when i finally...
slept with my self,
my self called me a whore!
and i spent weeks
on the porch,
fumbling in my pockets...
for my identity.
i stopped a passing stranger
and asked him my name...
he pointed to the ground,
and muttered, 'other'!
i gave a wino my last dollar,
pulled down my hat.
and walked off alone...
but i could hear the footsteps,
could feel the heavy breathing...
and turning to demand...
saw my self!
Eric Cockrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-self-7/
