a philosophical discourse of course

changes perspective muses one drunk

man to another,

then another butted in: nay, it’s the other way around,

the clothes make the man,

a designer nodded approvingly, of course that’s how

it is while a religious man arches his back,

hell no, it is the inside that counts!

pah, a stranger asleep woke up from his slumber,

religion is external, for others to see, a show really

but who are you – he jabs his fingers to the arched back man

who looks uncomfortable, then prays.

the stranger takes a shot of vodka and whispers conspiratorially

to those on a table,

who am i? he asked while gazing about expectantly,

blank stares went about,

no one really wanted to further into talks of depth

when shallowness was more a mental stimulation

that had served it’s purpose.

outside in or inside out?

chatters came about again, some pleasant, some less so

but the cheers go the gleeman

found friends everywhere while midas

finally smashed the last golden statue, no longer

amused.

it’s a mindset,

a heartset,

who am i a label given by men,

who take it away as quickly as they give,

or a permanent something because it is a breath,

a sigh, an existence of i.

fascinating isn’t it?

when mutters go long into the night,

the i constantly changing, transforming,

no one left the inn for the wiser

when spirits were high, they all fell into slumber

once again, woke up like nothing ever happened.