When people say they miss me，

    I think how much I miss me too，

    Me， the old me， the great me，

    Lover of three women in one day，

    Modest me， the best me， friend

    To waiters and bartenders， hearty

    Laugher and name rememberer，

    Proud me， handsome and hirsute

    In soccer shoes and shorts

    On the ball fields behind MIT，

    Strong me in a weightbelt at the gym，

    Mutual sweat dripper in and out

    Of the sauna， furtive observer

    Of the coeducated and scantily clad，

    Speedy me， cyclist of rivers，

    Goose and peregrine falcon

    Counter， all season venturer，

    Chatterer-up of corner cops，

    Groundskeepers， mothers with strollers，

    Outwitter of panhandlers and bill

    Collectors， avoider of levies， excises，

    Me in a taxi in the rain，

    Pressing my luck all the way home.

    That's me at the dice table， baby，

    Betting come， little Joe， and yo，

    Blowing the coals， laying thunder，

    My foot on top a fifty dollar chip

    Some drunk spilled on the floor，

    Dishonest me， evener of scores，

    Eager accepter of the extra change，

    Hotel towel pilferer， coffee spoon

    Lifter， fervent retailer of others'

    Fumor， blackhearted gossiper，

    Poisoner at the well， dweller

    In unsavory detail， delighted sayer

    Of the vulgar， off course belier

    Of the true me， empiric builder

    Newly haircutted， stickerer-up

    For pals， jam unpriser， medic

    To the self-inflicted， attorney

    To the self-indicted， petty accountant

    And keeper of the double books，

    Great divider of the universe

    And all its forms of existence

    Into its relationship to me，

    Fellow trembler to the future，

    Thin air gawker， apprehender

    Of the frameless door.