The Account

The Account

There are many ways to achieve greatness, said Brodie,

Acknowledging the applause like a man holding up traffic –

This is one that worked for me.

And I watched him strip the girls in the front row

To their undies, figuratively speaking, as they leaned forward

To catch every nuance of his slithering tongue.

You might think I despise Brodie, or even pity him,

But you must remember that I’ve been there, done that,

And had a wife, a dog and a hearth

To show that men can change.

I’ve been lucky. Death always followed me

At a respectful distance, like an accomplished spy,

And my secrets have never been desperate enough

To die for. But Brodie reminds me of how it ends,

How it always ends when you live like a lunatic.

Nobody feels confident enough to mourn

And only comedians remember you.

The Great Receptionist looks up from his desk

And asks the usual questions. His understanding smile

Says he’s not afraid of parables.

I tell him about the things I hoped to achieve

And he gazes at me through the sky, patiently

Waiting to hear how it always ends.  He checks the form

And says: Occupation? He’s pleased to note

I have no regrets. And then he picks up his quill

And writes: Vagabond.