The sky is blue—
blue

like a cloudy marble

imagery
I love it

especially when it has nothing
to do with

nothing

They say I'll never
outgrow you intellectually

on balance, you'll always
be my better

but for a time, a short time
only

I'll have a seat at your table
although

before we sit down
I'll pull

your chair out
for you.

It's gone, but
we still

hang on to some myth
of an endless Summer

of growing and renewal
or

come to think of it

Isn't that Spring

veins like pistons,
arm up, arm down.

tiny, crude memories
hit with each stroke,

unasked, unwelcome,
and I wonder why

Before
ghosts
echos

basically before
things

got weird

there were nights with
devlish grins
late runs for chips

twinkies
ding dongs

and other food
we didn't really want to eat

and maybe

just maybe
there were clues

you know

a flickering street lamp
buzzing soda machine
or other stuff

not quite right

but were we really
looking

splattered
on canvas

tattered hat
shabby coat
worn pants

painted lips
three-day growth

against a fleshy
beige backdrop

we weren't born this way


what happened

The rain drives sideways
so

be careful

on the road they call
"Trucker's Alley"