Lou Reed,
once recalled
a misadventure
whether real
or imagenery,
exagerated
I do not know...
and the anecdote
is of dodging
beer bottles
causing riots
in every city...
Thankfully,
I have never had to
duck
from bottles
hurled in derision...
Though I have
been a target
( repository?)
of dissapointment,
mainly from you,
father.
Father,
long dead
who set the course
of my life
a course beyond old school-
beyond
ultra conservative...
And yes, I veered widely
so much so
you called me
bohemian,
libertine...

But,
is there a simpler
analysis,
one less condemning?
Is mine merely the freedom
of an artist,
a deliberate non-conformity
unshackled, unafraid?
Is it the euphoria
known only by rebels?
- A joyful abandon,
the way of the poet?
It is a path
trying at times
a match to a different
drummer
the tune,
words and language...
and I'll tell you-
outsiders, eccentrics
you'll be secretly admired,
regaled
though ever misunderstood
and never the norm-
and it will often be a burden,
heavy, cruel
but the craft is also
blessed-
a beautiful thing,
a priceless gift.