Poseur
Mather Schneider

I read Thus Spoke Zarathustra in high school.
I loved the name Zarathustra.
I used to write it everywhere:
“Zarathustra was here”
Zarathustra this, Zarathustra that.
I wrote “God is Dead” on a t-shirt
put “GOD” inside a red circle
with a slash through it.
I thought I was special
a rebel
I thought I was different than the rest of those
tobacco-chewers who held their
breath at cemeteries
and muttered pleads and promises
to the sky.
They couldn’t even PRONOUNCE
Zarathustra.
But really I was the same.
I was arrogant.
I wanted to exert my will
and discharge my energy
in the easiest way possible.
I wanted to be admired
for pretending
to understand something
I didn’t understand.
I wanted what I had not
earned.
You know if you say
Zarathustra
over and over
it becomes
another meaningless sound.

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