When Left to My Own Devices

by Connie Voisine

My self tries to become,
the way the cat by the stove becomes

after the cat has died.
My self gets out sometimes,

walks by the river where,
during droughts, boys

on dirtbikes tear up the riverbed.
Burning fuel smells like boys now

to my self who once firmly believed
in free will, but now

knows different. I encourage my self
to see more people

and so it sits on the neighbor’s patio
drinking a beverage, laughing

because the host said something
about the Republican Party.

I make appointments and my self
wanly complies. While we are driving,

my self commands, Say ‘Knock, Knock,’
and I fall for it again.

*Photo courtesy sheri.