My first novel was an unqualified success
The next eviscerated by the assholes in the press
The changing literary climate made a fossil out of me
They laughed at my pretension and my privileged ennui
Two or three coke benders later, I was the scourge of the white middle class
I needed out and I needed out fast

I spun the globe and landed on a tiny island nation
With which my country’d once engaged in some colonial relations
Where political unrest had messed their best attempts to fix
A flailing economy with cruise ship trips and selfie sticks
Piles of bricks resembling resort homes lining the beach like old hermit crab shells
What better place for a hermit to dwell?

I live alone in a fortress by the sea
I’m worth a fortune in the local currency
I see the currents fall and rise
I don’t keep up with current times

My day to day routine there was modest, so to speak
I had my groceries delivered in a basket once a week
I put up a chain-link fence and I got rid of all my shoes
Never bothered with the language, well, except the word for booze
So the news of the natives’ latest coup filled me with only distant curiosity
Like a boxing match on a barroom TV...

They came for me at midnight; I’d already gone to bed
They made me button up my pants, then put a bag over my head
When the leader pulled it off, I was surprised to see her smiling
She said, “It must be fate that brought you to this godforsaken island”
She had something in her coat; I thought it was a gun
Till she slapped it on the table and she turned to chapter one

She said: “I’ve read every word of your sordid first-world tale
About your daddy issues, Ivy League rejection, fear of kale
And I’ve come to the conclusion that it all only makes sense
As an unforgiving satire of Western decadence
If that was your intent, then you should take a bow for having penned it.”
I said, “Come to think about it, that’s exactly how I meant it.”

“In this crisis we can’t be content to emulate the West, though
Our country’s young and struggling; man, we need a manifesto!
Will you channel your frustrations, will you be our chosen one?”
This time I saw she actually was holding a gun

And I thought about my critics, every zero-star review
My ex-agents, my ex-publishers, and all my exes too
And I thought about this island and my unencumbered life here
And I heard myself cry out for a typewriter

Now I’m the figurehead of some kind of people’s uprising, I guess
They’ve kept me hazy on the details in case of my arrest
But what matters is this manuscript that shows my worldview’s shifted
I’ll ship it off to Brooklyn when the trade embargo’s lifted
And the world will finally see me as more than some blue-blooded flash in the pan
They’ll see the genius that I truly am
But until then...


from This was Inevitable, released October 18, 2019


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