Lies: First Draft

Like you I have no script
On this stage that's not a stage
Like you I am engaged
In autobiography

Like you I write a fiction
In the sense that it's made-up
Non-linear
And not a How-to-Book

Non-fictional
In the sense
That it is true and real
Although, perhaps
My editor would beg to disagree

It all comes down to definitions
Which
Characteristically for me
Seem to keep on changing
Like the index

Which
Although not finished
Has a sizable proportion
Devoted to the topic: Sex
But in the interest of full disclosure
Despite it's scope
It is regrettably
Not quite as broad as I had hoped

The chapters are a bit uneven
"My Youth: The early years"
Leaves much to be desired
Long on enthusiasm
Short on fulfillment
And looking back
Mostly lies

The history that I continuously revise
It flies
In fits and starts
Thank heavens for amnesia
To filter out the boring parts
Or those awful awkward times
When I was wrong

And still today
in the telling of my daily tale - I'm truly awed
I find so many, new, exciting, different, brave and novel ways
To illustrate how deeply I am flawed

In terms of the dramatic tempo too
I've noticed that
I cannot even follow my own story's arc
I'm parked
In my life's first and solitary Act
I keep on missing, that obvious dramatic cue
to signify the beginning of the part that is "Scene 1, Act 2"

Ah what a happy hopeless task
To ravel up this thread the fates have cast
To write a life as best I can - The best I have is this
To document the times I laughed
The rest
I will revisit if
And only if
I ever get a chance to write a second draft