Poem by Thom Hart

Switchback

If you were even to consider
trying out my point of view,
you would have to reverse
your entire outlook on life
several times over.

You know what?
switch time zones for a while
then come back.
Wear what I wear with
the same pride, that only
comes from a favorite pair
of pants worn several days
in a row.

And when you can't figure it out,
ask me "hey, are these glasses on right?"
and I'll say "Damn straight,
you look just like you always wanted to,
ever since you saw that video on MTV."

What if, while flying around
in your automobile, you saw
yourself walking down the
yellow line, and you turned
and caught your own terrified
eyes in the headlights.

Don't get me wrong now,
I'm not saying you ran you over.
Maybe you're just seeing things.
I wouldn't blame you for
perhaps believing
that you're fucked in the head,
just don't start wearing
tinfoil helmets and sitting in class,
staring at the ceiling,
while acting like a mute.
Not one word escapes you,
as you focus on blocking
extraterrestrial, or
government-sponsored mind probes.

I'm sorry if this cookie-cutter
community isn't what you thought it was,
We looked happy you say? Are you sure
you were even visiting on that day?
Oh right, last month we were all good,
slapping five as we walked by.
But I'm estranged now.
You all point, stare, and whisper.
And I know there really is no
problem, it's all me, it's just
that the little kids who cannot see,
they're the ones who need be set free.
Free from all your animosity.

And here I stand
on my little soap-box,
cardboard actually,
it's caving in at the sides,
all the angst is too heavy
and only builds
as I shout high up
from this street corner,
at the intersection
of "not interested" and
"who gives a flying fuck" street.

But look what I made you
from all my doubt and despair.
Clear as day, but out of sight,
you know it'll do you oh so right
to remember, just remember
where we all were two years
before tonight.