I lost five hundred million skin cells today
That’s okay, what’s there to say?
After all, they regenerate
No need to venerate
But am I now the same person?
Am I better? Did I worsen?
If I stand in one place long enough
Waiting to slough off enough stuff
Will I die in a pile of old skin?
Like standing in a heap of dandruff…
Maybe an experiment
Scientific method in practice
Death flourishing in wasteland
Like a parched thorned cactus
Chap in the wind
Wrinkle, crease, bend
Meditate in my pile of dead skin
Like a monk feeling Zen
Runnel in rain
Slowly going insane
Here I shall make my stand
Water bucket, shit bucket
Take out menu on hand
Never mind … fuck it
The Fool on the Hill
That crazy old hermit
Sitting in his refuse
May know if Buddha permit
Meantime I’ll just slough off yesterday
Let my ghostly epidermis blow away
After all… dust mites gotta eat too
About the Creator
Andrew C McDonald
Andrew McDonald was a 911 dispatcher for 30 yrs with a B.S. in Math (1985). He served as an Army officer 1985 to 1992, honorably exiting a captain.
https://www.amazon.com/Killing-Keys-Andrew-C-McDonald-ebook/dp/B07VM843XL?ref_=ast_author_dp
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