A cracked record pirouettes upon its cherry oaked coffin,
Listen closely to the requiem for my ravine.

Can you taste the a’s, the b’s, the c’s,
The spearmint flavor of cool jazz prancing      along       your      tongue.

A eulogy for the mind.
Our memory is not like it used to be.

Light driven through unshattered glass.
Reflecting amongst particles, a burnt hay fulgence.

Before this home, the welcome mat was upside down. An encasement. A confinement.
A rigid sweater, crafted of jagged straw and course hair clung to my skin.

I could never leave. The smell of chemical potpourri coming from that pyrex plate,
leaving the nostrils flaring in metallic bliss.         The taste of frosting.

Same faces entering, different ones departing. Friend on the couch fearing ****,
Me in bed fearing robbery.

A visitor in my room. Masked. Too dark to see.   He apparates from view while I shriek in silence. Alley cats in life threatening quarrel in a deaf man’s yard.

He comes again unwelcomed, I dare this time to challenge.
The drugs are done.    

Heroes are seldomly forgotten.