Soul Twins

Jc is the half of me
that won't break from smoking or sipping,
won't stop imbibing beer
long enough to chew a piece of gum.
He's the me that fills up
all of my time with voids:
the computer at home,
the skate on the street,
the tunes in the Underground.
He's the me that feels fear,
anxiety, doubt, and worry.
He's the me that lusts,
the side of myself that,
were it true that each smoke
deducted 8 minutes,
would be staring down imminent death,
a smoke dangling from his lips.
He's the me that has to hide shit,
for shame - shameful but reckless.
The ego screaming to be youth-anized,
for an ego-centric suicide realized.

The other half of me, the bright side,
does yoga, if not very often.
He drinks juice, eats vegetables,
sleeps in when he needs to,
even if he's not hung over.
He's the me that gifts,
the playful me, the hand that
puts out the butt before stretching.
He's the me that plays, that bounds up
and down mountains, that dreams in
kodachrome.
The me that invests the energies
of my born-again virginity back into me,
with a smiled, subtle sigh.
He's the JC that supports soul singers
on the subway, the side that see
the glass as brimming with beauty and bounty.

To Be Continued . . .