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The studio formerly known as “my yoga studio” which is certainly now someone else’s yoga studio has a cute little framed picture of a dancing bear above the toilet.  I don’t usually go for the dancing-bear-in-frame motif, but above this this particular teddy (one might have once referred to it as “my teddy”) are the words: Remember to use positive affirmations.  I am not a dork is not one of them. 

I always chuckled at this little ha-ha because “I am not a dork” is my kind of affirmation. Along with:  I am not a loser.  I am not a cow.  And, I am not destined to be another slug popped and gutted under the iron heel of mediocrity.

When I try on phrases such as: I am hip.  I am sexy.  I am both intelligent and talented and am a virtual giant of creativity.  I just sound like a fraud.

(Yeah, I should also try on the phrase “Even though I’m a language arts teacher, I don’t know a good goddamn about grammar.”  Yes, that explains the odd jumble of colons and periods and the lack of quotation marks or whatever.)

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Ah, I sit here, Witch Doctor of words.  Shaman of syllables.  Lexical mad woman.  I have, like all of the word smith syntactical Frankenstein’s before me, added a bit of flesh, maybe some skin, a tuft of hair here and there, to the naked, skeletal, two-stanzed deal that I posted a few days ago.  Yes, I am asking you, dear reader, to subject yourself to another of my poems.  I hope I fail to waste your precious time; to disappoint.  And, as always, you are invited to give your opinion.  (If your opinion is good.  Just kidding.)

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Drifting off to sleep,
the words come.
Also while driving,
or in the shower.
Whenever it may be inconvenient
to hold a pen and paper.

Yes,
I have written
while speeding down the Interstate,
letting my hand do its magic
while my eyes
keep a steady rhythm
from the rearview mirror
to the road.