Heralded

A man from the future approached me some time ago
to assure me that my efforts will not go unnoticed.
One man’s battle in a war of millions.
A small statue will be erected
in honor of my newly discovered accomplishments
one half of a century following my passing.

My journal and personal effects
displayed beneath museum glass.
My great-great grandchildren will shield the track lighting glare
to glimpse my insufferable handwriting in letters to former lovers.
They will notice how my R’s seem to give up as they enter the next letter
a vain attempt to convey my misery as a emotionally fatigued adult.

This can not be what I’ve lived for.
We all wish to be remembered
yet spend our lives remembering others.
I try to imagine George Washington being great
as soon as he checks his email or when that new reality TV show is over.
Perhaps I am fooling myself by imagining that from billions of slobs
I could be acknowledged now, let alone fifty years from now.

A bastard child will inevitably surface
the day my childhood street is renamed for me
brandishing proof of my poor humor choices
And excessive use of expletives with compound adverbs.
These realities will devalue my corpse in popularity polls
thus driving down auction prices of items I supposedly ate part of
rendering my action figures virtually unsalable.

I may have just talked myself down from greatness.