Like Everyone Else

They’ll shave his beard, nose, ears, and hair,
To make him look like everyone else
                Charles Simic
 
To make me look like everyone else
they’ll begin with my dreams.
First they’ll close down my dream hotel,
the one with the long balcony, and roof made of glass.

Then they’ll walk the horses out in front
down the street where the butcher
lives above his shop. He’ll sharpen
his knives when he hears them clip-clopping

along the cobblestones. All the birds will
be removed, brought to a forest
made of stone, where they will sing in chorus
until their little voices break into pebbles of flint.

All night, fires will burn and smoke will roll
over the river to the town below.
They’ll fuse my fingers into useless mitts.
When the pain is gone, they’ll turn my tongue inside out,

offer digestives and weak tea. They’ll frog march
me to the tailor’s shop and choose a suit
I can wear to walk backwards through mud.
They’ll locate a city where I can live as though my name

which once meant Hands like Lobster Claws
echoes down silent streets, a rock tumbling in a deep
well like a man who falls asleep and wakes to find his
features stripped and dream birds fled into a mirage of sky.

Steve Klepetar

If you have any comments on this poem, Steve Klepetar would be pleased to hear from you.