These Are My JOTtings...

Shame: The Coat That Doesn't Match my Lifestyle

Ashamed to say this baggy coat
of itchy wool and putrid smells
Has hounded me like billy goat
or extra skin, but no one tells.

Like little boy in father's shoes,
the dangling mass of shirt & pants.
His glasses my young eyes abuse,
What brilliant hope will soon advance?

The silky dress and spiky heels
with wobbled balance and lipstick.
The clip-on earrings, painful squeals
alert of odd-play made of schtick.

They say that "Imitation is
sincerest flattery,"
But not improper tries by kids
that parents hate to see.

So Mom removed the lumpy clothes
and painted latex shame instead.
"Not-good-enoughness" smells of those.
Now, sunny smile was partly dead.

The shame like Elmer's Glue on hand
affixes throughout ev'ry niche,
Yet rubs abrasively like sand
and links that drag in sand as leash.

With red and green and blue I'd paint,
'til laughed at sore by spitting kids,
"Yes, Art is good, but art you cain't"
With shame of face my art I hid.

Piano, tuba, viola strings
The love of music in me sings.
My pencil lead smells freshly sharp.
The words of Heaven play like harp.

But grayest tarp o'er all I do,
"It's nice, but muddy. Are you through?"
"O, Yes! I'm done. I'll store it here
and look at it again some year."

The plastered red engulfs my face.
No clothes can match this long disgrace.
My Mom has dressed me up, you see,
before she off to Heav'n did flee.

by Jay O'Toole
on October 12th, 2017