Fred Aiken Writing

every smart person I’ve ever known,

let me know in so many words,

’You have no idea what you’re doing,

please give up,

clean up,

and go home’,

though for some odd reason I keep sticking around,

hoping this time might be different,

I’ll finally realize my mistake and correct, correct, correct

before it’s too late,

and all is lost,

none is forgiven,

take off my clothes,

skinny dip with the fishes,

I drowned all my sorrows in the Chattahoochee River,

washed away, wished away,

thinking I’m special in a way,

though I guess I probably shouldn’t be that naive,

but that just wouldn’t be me