In a way, the fight I fight with myself every day
is the fight to not feel like I have to fight,
In a way, getting up every morning
and writing a poem before heading off to a day job
is like putting on war paint
and calling on gods of fire for protection,
In a way, looking out the window
and feeling a sense of longing and betrayal,
is the way a tortured and fractured ego
thinks of its equally shattered mother missing it,
In a way, eating a pizza
like it is the last thing you will do on earth before dying
is like invoking the spirit of a grandmother
atop slices of memory and warmth,
In a way, working with children with disabilities
is the same as working with your child self
who still feels incapable,
In a way, living and being alone
is communing with the godliness and wisdom
of the original self,
In a way, having the runs for months
is like expelling people and locations
that disgust and threaten you at great cost,
In a way, having a crush is like taking in a view
from atop a mountain and beside a dead lover
you still idolize,
In a way, farting on the toilet is like exiting a
building during a false alarm,
In a way, wincing when you sit up
because your back hurts,
is like praying to an ocean of emptiness
for a help up,
In a way, going to therapy every two weeks
is like making a phone call to
and having a conversation with
a friend pre-flip phone,
In a way, going to war is like having a tantrum
over there being no cookies left in the jar,
and catching your sibling eating the last one,
In a way, driving is like taking a cat nap
before having to get to work,
In a way, the blanket you use to cuddle up with
while watching TV
is like the uterine lining you cuddled up inside
while inside your mother,
In a way, watching a horror movie
and not being able to sleep well because of it
is like communing with your own shadow
and trusting it to take you for a walk
as if you were its dog on a leash,
In a way, having sex is like discovering
a part of yourself you didn’t realize
you could penetrate to,
In a way, having a friend to spend the day with
is like going back to when you were a child
and you looked up to people
who were more outgoing than you,
In a way, playing with ants beneath a mailbox
is like preparing yourself for a deep dive
into uncertainty,
In a way, recognizing you’re an empath
is like returning a plate of cold food to the kitchen,
In a way, sleeping is like trusting someone
to have your back should insurgents arrive,
In a way, jumping up and down for no reason
or simply because doing so is nonsensical
is like a cat zooming down a hallway
following a good out.
Using the simile substitution “in a way” in place of “like,” this poem plays with simile and how, much gentler and ironically more incisive than metaphor, in my opinion, it can pull highly dissimilar subjects together in a more expanding, imaginative, personal and yet universal way than a metaphor can.