telling about a time when i was a
man fully loaded
is really sideways disrespect for the
kind of stud i am now
one stem into reminiscing could also
draw a stream of horror at the
hungry animal its disregard
for self-regard estate planning
this life wasn't yet a paradigm only
anti-paradigmatic yet
organized enough to fool a boy into
thinking he had time
my boot tracks in the snow are like
the bodies each a new step into the
cold delight of warm palm islands
we were an intimate crew
i have my colossal straddle over those
old-timey train towns and worn goat
paths in the gardens of other capitals
lonesome memories
now i am tripping off to glory
on the heels of my dad and mother and
so many countrymen
so that the past may keep being fed
by Ilyn
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