12 january

falling down and other sad-sounding steps
we've leapt beyond the collapse and
trap our thoughts in college-ruled scrapes
escapes and other follies
rollicking good times and Calvin Kleins and sunglasses
molasses in the Everglades
Bullwinkle in Ray Ban shades
all the fingers knuckling down
all the ghosts in a foreign town
nobody wants you to think that but
in the end it's your own mind
in the beginning, it is, too
hardly the words to index, then
hardly the numbers to count to ten
cannot write with scraped knuckles
tuck in and make no apologies
out there is the air that i'd much rather breathe
making no friends
making proprietary mistakes
no second-guessing on this field
need a smaller sanctuary
close my eyes to find