I Am 54 Today

i.
I am as old
as the century was
when I was born

what if I were able
to make it all the way
to 2054

all the way,
my footprints along life's beach

so far, has life been
more bitch or more beach

or a dog and its maker
alone along the sand
scavenging for bones

or a rider upon horse back
making waves, sea water splash

oh, the monkeys, in 54 years,
I've had go for rides, upon my back

used to long for angel's wings to flap

wish still I were able
to get about the globe
without passport

what privilege, what limitation
nationality has been

this rock upon which
I've spent most of my days

7 by 21, when the globe
is 24 thousand miles around

what is it across
is it the same across, as it is around

since it is no longer flat
not a saucer flying
with biscuit and tea
or biscuit and cheese

how long have I slept
in the years I've lived

how long living, how long dreaming
how much time left
for dreams to come true

mom and daddy
both here from Long Island
here no more

I used to read my father
articles I wrote,
which appeared
in the newspaper

or articles about me
in The Guardian, The Tribune
The Freeport News

ii.
my father was 41 in 1954,
my mother 37,
I their ninth child,
I've been here a while

since my mother's breast milk
since her breasts
in a child's small fingers

since her nipples
in a greedy mouth
in eager jaws, going and going

until I overdosed,
until I blacked out

until it was time for chalk
writing upon blackboards

until I held my own slate in my lap
where my notebook is now

upon it I write
this poem on my birthday

recollecting Dylan Thomas
on his high hill, in Wales
with gulls above his head,
squawking about

what am I talking about
hawking about

what am I puking up
or spitting out


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:50 p.m. 30.03.08