Anyone

Can throw shit on a page
I have the proof at my office
Piled and sprawling like the compost fuel of dinosaur days.

Music
Real music
Flows
Into something that rolls into crashing waves
Beyond the square daily portioned life.

I am just anyone
Until I roll the music
But then, except for you
I’m alone

We
Are together because I couldn’t be one anymore.
Aren’t you the one I created

And aren’t all those others, my mother and father and others,
Others I created because I was afraid

Of maybe
The slim
Possibility
That
I am
Here

Alone

I wanted someone who could hear the crashing waves.

A"ny*one (#), n.

One taken at random rather than by selection; anybody. [Commonly written as two words.]

 

© Webster 1913.

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