As I Am

Behind my false beard
and the frown line between
the eyebrows I have developed

by trying to pay attention
to the world, I am the same kid
who could never remember

his library books or what
he had been sent to the store for.
"Fog" was the name my teachers

gave to where I spent my time,
a haze that even today
can descend while I'm having

a conversation, or suddenly lift,
revealing the wrong
landmarks drifting past me

on the wrong road I took ten
miles ago. God, it has been lonely
to turn up all those years

where everyone else has arrived
long since. Yet how, without
looking just beyond

the shoulders of others
as they spoke, or searching
everywhere for the pen

I found in my own hand,
could I concentrate on the thought
I learned to write down

at last, back from the place
that has wanted me off-course
and bewildered, just as I am.

-Wesley McNair