The ego,
I think, must not be
a temple, since
not even Christ—pissed off
though he is
with a little
harmless competition
from local business—
would willingly wreck his
in the name of salvation.
And really who
could blame him? Look at
how magisterial! the thing is.
But then, think
of all the patents—
held in the name of
somebody else—
that must have been needed
in order to erect it.
No, I think
the ego is more like
one of those
tiny pointed paper cups:
a disposable cone
which can never stand up
on its own
and which gets
overfilled easily—
yet it's always
so startling
when it starts to spill over.
On our humblest
days, we might feel
blessed
by the sensation
of runoff dripping
down on our foreheads.
On all the questionable
rest—anointed.
