I am Me
by zoEy Benally

The pictures we looked at last week
Yanked from the furthest bottom drawer folder
File labeled "Potential Wealth"
Harbored many flavors and incarnations
Of all the Me-s I had entertained over the decade

And there I was
...Was with my jet black from a box
...Was with my spikey wax
...Was with my splash of pink
...Was with my Navajo blonde
...Was with my long, limp hair
And here I am now with my non-descript,
haven't found a stylist
remnants of something once cool,
Looking at these pictures with you.

For me the pictures capture, not only
surface aesthetics, but also clues
Subtle tells about who I was
When my hair was this way or that
Minuscule hints that help me remember
Lands traversed, trails hacked through
with mental machetes
Rubber shoe stamps ground into
dark leaves, forest floor berber

Two weeks ago a bumbling, bitter old twit
Accused me of morphing into crusty bread
Tried to twist words from messengers and philosophers
Spin words from minds galactic-ly greater
than his decades alcohol dessicated neurons to indict me
Worm his demented musings
and drowning man flailings
personal failings
into judge and jury against me
tried to blame me for his sins

Picture after picture
I searched
I scanned
I caught no glimpse
No crumbs hastily dropped
From this alleged day old bread incarnation
I was me then.
I am me now.