I am not the waitress that brings your penultimate meal and you don’t know of its status.
I am not Billy Collins although some days I wonder what it would be like to be him.
I am not any of the shards created from shattered glass once covering Harry Diamond’s legacy on my bookshelf.
I am not the second button from the top at the front of Lucian Freud’s winter coat in 1965 but I have always been flesh – just not captured by him
I am not a muppet although I feel a strong affinity.
I am not angry any more
I am not a fan of creatures with wings because I’ve never seen a dragon fly
I am not the reminder you assumed me to me.
I am not a clock nor hands on a face
I am not immune to the texture of the smell of sandpaper, fine
I am not your leftovers as you were never mine
But I am very much alive when I might have been dead inside and out
I am exceptionally sad some days without rhyme or reason
I am always remembering how I love you
I am someone who is loved by you
I am not a work in progress but finished each second to a different degree
I am not afraid of monkeys or wombats
I am unusually adept at making other people feel unusually adept
I am a vampire am I not?
I am already very different to when you began.
Images: © Fran Dileo, 2010
Text: © J. L. Nash, Who Am I Now?, 2010