Saturday, September 23, 2017
The Man Who Lost His Mind
...and no one noticed
I am he.
Oh, perhaps there’s a brain stem
or something left.
Enabling me to operate on a
primitive level.
To fake it.
I wonder if I had relied on this
for the many years before losing
my mind.
I still work the same job, my
colleagues just as boisterous,
or cutting, as usual.
Live in the same messy studio.
With the exception of one desk,
the surface of which I keep
uncluttered.
A special art has developed
where I space objects on it
weekly.
Enabling me to breathe
much more freely.
Go figure!
About a year into my 90%
brainlessness, I sought the
advice of the wisest man I
know. My old professor of
Interpersonal Problems.
He listened. And then laughed.
“Welcome! My mind left over
five years ago.”
So! A reunion of sorts of the
brain deficient.
All we could do for the whole
conversation was chuckle and
guffaw as to how we’ve fooled
everyone.
But then I turned serious!
I had so many questions!
Chief of which: Do women lose
their minds proportionally?
He couldn’t stop laughing then.
Five minutes elapse, my thinking
he’d need medical treatment.
Finally he breathlessly blurted out “Not...
in the least. They...never do. You see,
they had none to begin with!”
Stop here! Feminists, please.
And plot no revenge of any type!
Especially intricate, quite above
my head!
It was a joke!
Actually I love women more and
more tremendously since I’ve
lost my mind.
I gravitate to their conversations in
the office.
I seek places where they congregate
and I bathe, bathe in their loveliness,
and non-threatening wit.
One of these for lunch. An old paneled
establishment where the chef rules.
He makes me a thumping cheeseburger
that defies gourmets. It shouldn’t succeed,
but does deliciously!
(I should say here that when I possessed
a mind I was a vegetarian.)
I hardly come up for air when I devour it!
Then burp and discretely fart with some
abandon, my chin greasy which I
darent napkin-dab for a while in my
gustatorial ecstasy. Ahhhhh! Shine on,
wondrous chin!
Then I turn my attention to the women
dining there. The lovely, bubbling
conversation. The buoyant laughter.
I could swim therein forever. It is
flawless!
Until...she without flaw!
Enters!
Drop-dead gorgeous! an understatement.
Sitted at a corner table, and draws all eyes
towards her as head waiter leaves maroonly.
The other women make excuses to each
other, and fairly quickly depart.
Just me and her.
And do I walk by her and stumble and
shyly apologize, and this awkwardness
the beginning of great romance?
Not a bit of it. Grow up, o Hollywood
Infected.
I flee too! But linger outside to watch
her through the window, street life
shoving at my back.
Alone, she is breathtakingly beautiful
in a shaft of rancid light.
I can take no more of her looks.
And loneliness. So walk away fast!
I’ve been promoted at work, thus
lacking most brain power helps.
Have a new, spacious apartment and a
cleaning lady, an ageless babushka.
Also, about to marry.
I’ve been honest with Tess.
She quips “Who needs a freakin
brain anyway? Or even much money?
Kind hearts are hardly witty, but
they’re purest gold!”
Labels: faking, feminism, humor, kindness, lose mind, marriage, wit
