I'm a regular

I'm a regular, somewhere.

self-consciousness keeps reminding.

boring is just a half-step behind me.

if I look back, 

memory is a placid smile in return.

my temperament allows for that often.

can one's shadow have its own shadow?

there is a dialogue that happens there,

but not right now.

I am way too familiar to bother with that. 

let me help me, to help me to myself.

you can understand that, right?

attention, for all it is cracked up to be,

generally gives appearances appropriately.

but you got to know 

what a sham the whole, being a person, is.

I have loose parts 

that I don't want to claim

but they won't leave the rest of me alone.

I feel like a tagalong to myself

and can't speak the truth about it.

you know that account

where you are a busload of you 

on the inside,

and they all talk their own talk

without restraint or any sense of manners?

well, I've got one of those going on.

they are constantly on a tour for themselves

and I get to hear all about it.

I am wallpaper 

that can't escape the inner sound 

of their utterances.

it's not all stupid

but their content for remarks 

is not going to get a real voice through me.

I just live with the, quote, wisdom offered!

can you imagine a conference where

all of mine and all of yours got together

and compared notes 

and topics about everything?

maybe, in the end,

they might reach a faster sense of truth 

then I do.

but seriously, that is not going to happen.

I just wander around 

as their supposed tour guide.

I don't bother to give them any insight info,

just chaperoning 

and as also being the driver

is a cheap thrill, some of the time.

I think I am driving a limo

but they respond as if we are all on a bus.

this is inwardly humbling but possibly true.

anyways, its always 'a' to 'b' for me

and never to them. 

like I said,

I'm a regular.

does this seem like wandering to you? . . .