IDENTITY SYNDROME<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s nine o’clock at night and the five star general
is babysitting his granddaughter. The CEO of
a Fortune 500 company kisses his wife on the cheek.
Cops drink beer. Crime lords sip whiskey.
The author of the latest great American novel
watches “Law And Order” on TV.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lids are drowsy from President to Governor,
school superintendent to the second shift guys
at the fire-station. The mall is closed. Newspaper
headquarters are alive and kicking but the owners
are already in bed. For every doctor working the ER,
there’s two dozen half-sleeping on the couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It’s the perfect time for me. I could take over
the war. I could step in for a titan of industry.
I could make an arrest\u2026of myself. I could
even write the great American novel now
that the competition has shut down for the evening.
And why not run the country, or the state at least.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the schools are up for grabs. And I could
fight the fires long before the trucks arrived.
I could be the only one shopping the mall.. .and serving
myself. And, of course, I’d own the newspapers, tell them
what to print. And, if it’s all too much, no problem.
I’d give myself a clean bill of health.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But what if someone else decides they’re going to live
my life? What if they hug my woman, eat my food, write
my poems while I’m off being someone else? Even in this
down time, I’d best stick with being who 1 am.
And yet, it’s nine o’clock at night and I could be anyone.
I just happen to be me when the choice is made.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"