Author Andre Dubus III Comes to Portland to Speak and I am Overcome With Jealousy

This man, this writer, this icon, is famous
Wealthy and secure, doing what he was meant to do
Was born to do
And
Arriving with a hundred dollar haircut
To warm the crowd with

He is funny, confident and sexy
Looking a bit like a model of past days
With great, practiced stories, all with a point

And I sit
Growing angrier by the minute as he speaks

I knew guys like this in college
To whom everything comes easy
They come from good families, even when they don't
Their talents and charm withering the defenses
Of all in their path

I know him
He is too together, too much
And I am angrier still

Why not me?

------------

Driving home I nearly clip an almost certainly drunk pedestrian
And curse him, knowing the man is looking for trouble, which I nearly provide
My mind is frozen in temper, in heat and disgust

Why not me?

Andre Dubus III is a success story, his books important
I am a slob, bulked up from weightlifting, with fading eyesight
And nowhere to run
Who is no one
Nothing
And I hate him more

What do I think of successful writers?
I despise them
Because they've worked out the secrets in life
And I haven't