Self-Portrait

The night was
So engrossed in himself
That I had
To ask, "What
Makes a person?

"What
Makes (me)

a person?"

And the bar-lights
told me one thing;
the concrete disagreed.
The eraser
said "Shut up and
Forget," but my shoes
knew I couldn't.
The wishing well
Wanted me to believe
In dropping quarters,
"But,"
The bobcat warned,
She just wants
Your dropping quarters.

The night was
So engrossed in himself
That I had
To answer
My

Self.