It's recording me,
the next guy, everybody.
I'm assured
they'll only
rewind to my brief scene
if I commit a crime.
If I insert a stolen card,
then I'll be required viewing
for somebody.
But if I just go about my business,
withdraw what's mine,
I'll be recorded over
by someone else,
as honest, as commonplace
as I am.
It reminds me of what they said
of God when I was young,
how he sees everything,
knows everything,
but I knew he wouldn't bother with
me tying my shoe-laces,
me sleeping curled up in my bed.
Every life is important,
has consequence,
my mother used to say.
No, every life is written over
by every other life.  

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John Grey is an Australian born poet, playwright, and musician. His latest book is What Else Is There from Main Street Rag. He has recently published in Freshwater, Westview and Journal Of The American Medical Association.
E-mail: JGrey10233 at aol dot com  

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