Talking About You

“If you don’t know what you’re doing by now

You’ve wasted three generations of practice”

Said a poet to a doubter

Your name might have been Riley

There’re three generations of Riley(s) in your family

And it was your grandfather’s name

His daughters loved him; his son and grandson

Found the name too many layers of clothing to wear

 

A careless visitor who commented

As a taunt or a tease

“You living the life of Riley” had no idea

Of the history the name carries in your family  

She thinks of Riley as Irish and a carefree bachelor

If one loves light they must endure heat

Daddy Riley was the light of your family

Standing in his glow often made others sweat

 

How many are living “the life of Riley”

How many exist and even thrive because

Of toil sweat and generosity of others

A life of self-sufficiency is illusion

We are at best inter-dependent; Daddy Riley relied on

Mother Sudella and the chain links go infinitely backward sideways and

Forward “the life of Riley” earned a dubious

Reputation from those with superficial perspectives  

 

You, who shall remain nameless because it’s deceptive to narrow identity

Because we are always more than can fit a description

You shed plates like snakes and personalities like weather gages

You who routinely lose yourself in songs can’t

Be counted on to maintain a continuous façade

You are everybody you’ve ever been and all the bodies you might be  

Invisible you blue black you who the hell do you think you are you and

What did you do to be so black and blue you