Writer

by Dancing Bear

 I stare at that picture of you
 printed in the anthology
 your sad face staring away
 looking like one of the damned
 haunted
 suffering for your art
 I wonder why we do it
 Why we put ourselves through
 hell
 Why not be like the happy cattle
 who grew up as a Cleaver neighbor
 live in perfect happy marriages
 to childhood sweethearts
 drive land rovers to work
 and have club memberships
 then I meet the people who suffer
 who have none of that happy shit
 and have no art
 -no expression
 

I stop wondering and begin to write