To Live Among the Clever Folk

oh, to live where nothing is too loud
where nothing smells bad
everything is clean
everything works.

amid the clangorous traffic 
the boom-thudding-boom of
vulgar peasant subwoofers
I would move calm and upright
in an exquisitely armored bubble 

authoritative and resolutely
cheerful cellos and violas 
entwining among the warm 
and welcoming woodwork 
of my mind

Everyone I know and work with
(never for) is guileless and pleasant
even the attractive, fresh-faced
help behind the counter
are happy to help
because they know
sure as sunrise
this isn’t where it ends

this is something they’re 
doing now as a favor 
for a family member
for mad money
and they’re proud to do it well
from across that deep gulf 
of difference between 
serving one’s own
and serving one’s betters

so very few people I know
can begin to comprehend 
what that means
but I’ve seen these places 
I’ve met these people
and tough break 
it was not my fate 
of birth to dwell 
among them

I can’t hate myself 
too much for trying 
to emulate them
listening to public radio, etc.
reading all the right books
checking out all the things 
these people liked and 
trying to like them myself

an author I admired once cautioned
“be careful whom you pretend to be
one day you will wake up and
that’s who you really are”
and God help me
I counted on it

I wasn’t wrong to want to get away
from what I wanted to get away from
but I understand why I was shut out

I also understand I could still earn 
my way within the gates 
were I to create 
a smart boutique business 
or a bestselling book
to afford a space among them

it’s all right
everything worked out

my wife, my grown children
the quiet in the country farm town
where I live now
suffice enough
to crowd out 
any hard feelings

We’ll keep our distance as
we always have, thank you,
and all the best to you 
and yours (seriously, we’re 
not talking about this the science 
was long ago settled)

Cheers.

From the forthcoming collection Nymphomagic Electroshock and Other Middle-Aged Complaints.
Copyright © 2020 by Lawrence Roy Aiken.