Poem-A-Day: Day 149

Claim Jumper

The only trophies I can claim
are the ones handed out for just showing up,
and one for having the best allergy to peanuts.
I could feign interest in anything
and claim that I am the world’s best actor,
or try to not be sarcastic
and claim I have become a miracle man
casting miraculous acts of interest;
a regular 21st Century Jesus.
I could claim more than I know,
which isn’t far from the truth,
since I know more than nothing
but much less than most things.
Mostly I proclaim
to nobody in general;
some mass of feigning interest
in something that has wore out a welcome,
like a mat, caked dry with the mud
of a million shoes that have tread thoughts
through fields of blown out dreams.
I have made that claim day after day,
after relentless day, after soul crushing,
soul crushed, sold, gone, nothing.
I can claim crushing defeat,
but there isn’t anything that has won.
One claim, a proclamation to the world:
Sit back, relax, it’ll only hurt for a second.