Scraping paint is

productive.

With every layer that peels away

The truth comes nearer to

Exposure.

Like paint

I scrape

And peel

And liberate that of me

That is buried

Deep within.

Personalities

Identities

Me

As I thought I was

Not.

The attachment of my J-O-B

A title, persona and bank account

Lunches

Drinks

Meetings

All part of another time

My worth is

More than a mere position

It’s a composite of all

That I have been

And all that I am

Plus all that I am evolving to be

The truth

The real wood

The substrate beneath the paint

Is sometimes a surprise

Especially to me

My friends know.

They long ago realized

They loved me

Unpainted

Without pretense or title or whatever.

No justification.

No need.

No layers.