My childhood went by
like a toy pushed down a long
hallway, set fire, bouncing on the
I escaped time through
‘a long, prolonged’
exposure to gamma.
And hamstring strung up
to drain of fluids, like a butcher,
with those first lines.
Pool hall jukebox and foose ball pothead early teens.
Long before Kerouac or anyone else infested my dreams.
I found delight in my own nature first.
You can learn the only thing you need
to from a swimming whole or a junk yard,
and a few good friends.
(Cue, TheWonder Years Theme)
I don’t believe in being imagistic though.
I washed my hands of all the splices from
Ads and other suggestive thighs, crossed into my own
recollection, my calm, cool predilection
for hosting my own awkward, crazy
unrehearsed audition, (in the middle of dawn
quiet streets, walking home from another night
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