In a Previous Life
In a previous life, I was truly feared.
Walking the streets in a gray suit,
condiments staining a wide tie,
belly bouncing over a black belt.
They knew who I was, so they scattered,
like pests from steps of the pest remover.
Sometimes I couldn’t help but smile but
mostly I remained stolidly firm and stern.
When my mother died, I was alone.
I felt the life draining from my body.
Just dressing in the morning was a feat.
Making it to the office, Olympian.
So I quit and began to wear jeans.
Got my hair styled, began to smile.
Yet they still see me as the Tax Man,
though I was always hiding from them.
#### Poet’s Notes ####
(This became wrinkled in my work bag!)
Photo of First Draft: