the past is not even past in poetry

imagine if reincarnation turns out to be real
then we figured out a way to exactly determine
who everyone was in all of their past lives and
you’re held up to the achievement standards of
the most successful person you used to be

“Cleopatra, workin’ at Arbys!”
“Alexander the Great, goin’ to night school!”
“Plato, givin’ handjobs for meth!”

life is a hellmouth of fear and regret enough
then you find out you were Mark Twain and
Shakespeare and Benjamin Franklin and now
you’re living in your childhood bedroom again
“HEY BARD! HOW’S THE STATE-ASSISTED HEALTHCARE?!”
or whatever, you know, just for example

I for one hope that we never find out
one lifetime of sins and failings is enough
for me to deal with anyway
it’s too much on some days
to begin with