Tony Soprano Gives Me Advice on Living

A Poem

Sopranos Still shot, the final scene

I cannot recommend dysphagia.
Who woulda thunk that this acid reflux
could become such a pain in my tuchus.
Most mornings I wake
feeling like I swallowed a balloon
and someone is trying to inflate it.
Most mornings I wake up depressed.
Am I depressed because my body is falling apart,
or is my body falling apart because I’m depressed?

Tony Soprano would tell me to stop my crying.
Tony Soprano would tell me to think
about the good times, remember the good times.
Don’t be such a pussy. Don’t be some gabagool.
Don’t send your kids to military school.
Life is about tits and ass and staring at tits and ass
until the big empty darkness opens wide
and says give me a kiss.

I am not Tony Soprano despite how much
I want to selflessly love the concept
of family more than having an actual family.
I’m doing my best here, thinking
of something positive where I normally
would dwell on hating myself
and the one awkward thing I said
to…