At first I barely noticed "him"--the sly, implausible, mean-spirited loiterer whispering hard-man trash in my head. I dismissed the filth and cant as an insignificant side current--something that could have been running in me, polluted and unnoticed, for years, hidden by high-level self-regard. Who let this in? Who could the hard man hurt?

But over time, he's claimed space. Before my own eyes, not (I swear) because of any overt action on my part, I have changed for the worse in thought and feeling. It's a done thing, seemingly, over and done. The hard man has finished the job.

At moments I'm certain my shame is genuine--the same for the pain. But I can also see myself ...

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