Michelle asked:
I haven’t quite been feeling myself lately, B&A. Have you ever felt like this…?
Somebody lost his identity
The last time he shopped at the mall
He thinks it slipped out of his pocket
Between Radio Shack and Jabal.
Somebody was in a dilemma.
He didn’t know who to be.
So he decided to look to others
For a new personality.
As somebody entered the parking lot
He spied a magnificent car
A jetblack ferarri it was
The kind that can take a man far.
The door opened and out stepped a man
Lean with a mustache thin
Who sported fine Italian linen
That matched his soft olive skin.
Somebody approached the man
Hoping they could chat for a while
And when he inquired his name
The response that was given was, “Style.”
“A pleasure to meet you, good sir,”
Bubbled Somebody with a great grin
“I was hoping you could help me
To solve this dilemma I’ve found myself in…
“You see, I can’t find my essence
I don’t know what to do
And you seem like an interesting fellow,
I was wondering if I couldn’t be you…”
“Oh no,” chuckled Style derisively,
“There’s no way you could ever be me.
You haven’t the chic of my caliber.
THAT’s plain as day to see.”
Hurt and dismayed walked somebody
Away from the horrid man.
“I’ll have to find someone better,”
He thought climbing into his mini-van.
I’ll find someone who’s got something better,
That’ll make that cad think
Just then he spotted a casino
And thought he’d stop in for a drink.
Somebody walked into the casino,
Ordered a martini, shaken, not stirred.
And over at the poker table
He observed that:
The crafty man with the slicked back hair
Who just doubled the last man’s bid
Was a shark at the game, sure to win everytime
Which is exactly what he did
Now, thought, somebody
He’s got it alright
A wallet as thick as my thigh;
So he introduced himself to the man and listened to his reply.
He said his name was Avarice;
“People call me Vice,”
he mumbled through his cigarette,
And once more doubled the price.
Somebody related this problem to Vice
And told him of his desire
To master the gambler’s poker face
And become a professional liar.
Avarice stopped in mid-deal
And for a moment he sat with a smile
Then he turned to him, serious, and said
“If what it is you want is my guile,
You’ll need seventeen years to spare:
One for the rhythm, two for the rhyme
Four to master the straight face
And ten, you’ll be doing time.”
Somebody decided that wasn’t for him,
Thanked Avarice for the talk
And left the casino hurridedly,
Deciding he needed a walk.
As somebody wondered the street
He pondered this curious day.
Then he remembered his own identity
And realized he liked himself better that way!
Somebody pondered no more
But decided to return to the mall
To search every nook and crany
Between Radio Shack and Jabal.
Somebody searched for hours, his quest fruitless,
And he was about to turn around,
When he saw a large sign above him
That read: Mall Lost and Found.
There on a shelf it lay -
It was his own identity
And as Somebody left the mall that day
He thought, “Gosh it’s good to be me!”
_________________________________________
Does anyone out there know what I’m feeling? Anyone else not feel like themselves lately? 
Okay – here’s the real question: have you ever read a book and wandered around carrying a character’s identity with you? Talking like them, acting like them?
Which book? Which character?
