Polymorphism

I am a factory of selves,
manufacturing the proper instance of me
to best suit the present parameters.
I create extensions of myself
for every setting I know,
for each group of friends,
for good times, for bad times,
and for the touchiest times, too.

I have built both simple and complex me’s
to purchase my lunch
or work through a problem
or write a poem
or respond to hurting friends
or discuss the value of a human life
or what happens after it ends.

I don’t always know which me I should be.
When I encounter an error in my logic
I do my best to recover
and, if nothing else,
try to pick the right me next time.

You may only care that I’m a person,
capable of making a purchase
or fit enough to run an errand.
You may care that I am me, specifically,
and request a poem, or a program,
or a pedant’s peculiar perspective.
But be careful.  You may cast me
into whatever form you most see fit
but that doesn’t mean that’s the me I am.
My behavior may not be as well-defined
as you might expect.

You may see this as a flaw
and tell me that I’m two-faced,
dishonest, or fake.
But adaptation is the simple syrup
that melds the bitters into our cocktail.

If you want both order and abstraction
then we must all take many forms.