I carry Chuck along with me
He rests in my bag
And whenever this stupid ol' world
Has got me pissed off and crazy
He likes to pop his head out
Reminding me
Of how much worse other people have had it
That I'm not the only target of malevolence
That society has taken aim at
Some of which
Bear scars infinitely more terrible
Then my own
Jack likes to hang out
In the back seat of my car
With Lydia and Jessie
They sit there like a trinity
Of protective wards
And whenever I feel the arms of Hubris
Reach out to imbrace me
Daggers of insolence in hand
Ready to plunge into my back
They cry out a chorus of warning
In three-generational harmony
Or when the traffic of the world
Seems to be gunning for my nerves
They cry out
To remind me that I'm only
Getting upset at and over illusion
I only hope that someday
Someone thinks highly enough of me
To let me run around in thier bags
Or cars
Or better yet
They could put me in thier pockets
Yes
I think I would like that very much
~Matt Magus
