Inner Narrative

I am addressing the swimmer who does laps in my head.
The one who’s dogpaddling and backstrokes are without end.
Listen here, your effort is commendable.
Never has there been a being who felt such vigor as you.
Everyday going out and knocking on doors, shilling,
hustling in those pool halls, reading library after library,
building and building those buildings, sculpting the idols that we both share;
you are without equal. But, can I ask of you,

to turn down the music at night, perhaps not
perform your speeches right when I am about to eat dinner,
be aware that you are a stomper and that I am in the room below you,
please take your trash out, take the proper precautions
with all those experiments, as I am getting fed up with my walls blown in,
and the mess – put your papers in a file cabinet instead of all over – might
you remember to not burst in citing Aurelius when I am in the shower,
and I know the Mayan pantheon houses over 250 deities,
you have already told me. Please.

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