your greatness is only in the hearing and then on the retelling, <br />all stories where you are never a part, not even one of those minor <br />characters there, you are not in the picture not even as a dog waiting by the door, <br />or a sparrow by the window pecking upon a rumor, <br />you wanted to be irresponsible about what happened, a shadow arrived <br />opened the gate and waited for hours for its body of lies, <br />and then the party began, drunken bastards, bitching dogs, <br />spoiled brats, and a landscape of desert and rocks and a whole stretch <br />of sands to a seeming eternity of emptiness, <br />you are a good storyteller from the beginning of the party till it ended <br />at midnight, <br />someone is dragged and drugged and dead. <br />and all you say is, i do not know, i have nothing to do with this, <br />i am not even there, i am only narrating it. <br />if i were history, i would have smashed you from rock to dust<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-i-were-history/
