Move back.
The halls will be yellow at the high school
and the front office won’t have ever changed.
The sixth-graders who paddled down the Little Miami
will have remained the same.

The hammock will sit stagnant,
waiting for that push, that shake and bake, that slap and tickle.
A black lab rising up from the grave, smelly as all hell,
will be there to greet you.

Ride a red-spray painted bike down
deserted roads, the same mountain dew bottle trash,
age-less hollerin’ neighbors;
home-run derby crew.

Move back.
Watch lonesome blues whittled away,
and whispering softly,
“it’s not you, it’s not you, it’s not you.”

A blonde from the most expensive public institution
separated keef into sweet, firm rows.
Upon entering the wood-panneled house, you were under the allusion
that none of the go-ers would be doing blow.

Young males huddled against university brick walls
let their fluids go on a-flowing.
Expectation bound phonies make time-consuming calls
to prove there's elsewhere to be going.

And the toilet on the left side, remained fluffily clogged,
the mirrors all gazed into by the dozens.
The cell-phones kept the moments sufficiently blogged
about hazy ladies gyrating on cousins.

Crowds inadvertently bumping and grinding
in their pilgrimage to thee sacred keg.
Four fights broke out, because frat oaths are binding
and their forward almost broke his golden leg.

All dripping with the sour scent of the *****;
Make-outs, misogyny, and brawls.
Those in attendance were all said to have perused
the meaningless, the free, and the foul.

Tales of coming and going, movement on the insides
and the outsides
of the bodies.

The amateur beauty of the harmonica child,
Harmonies, surprisingly crafty,
polk along with the crack-pop of chicken being tendered
and fries not too salty at-all.

The line for New York City, Zanesville, and Philly;
a young man softly sifting through lady hair.  
And the shoes on this bunch all surprisingly thrifty.
Do not stare, echo mothers of the past.  

All pragmatics aside, I eavesdropped intently
to earnest voices of men, touch on topics of race.  
Gruff solitude, paired with fluorescent hung-lights
and a retrospective friend pacing endlessly.

Only the words that flow out seamlessly now,
can tell toward which mood I'll be leaning.

Not even twenty-four hour catharsis;
where at first rumination bred ruination.

The thirty-four degree one o' clock wind whispered "turn around, go back where you started."
The cloth of used, slightly misused sweater and unsanitary khakis counseled with the slogan,
"buy me, feel better."  
Dreary glimpses, averting eyes on community paths spoke most loudly, and most fluently, and quite simply said: alone.  

Mistrust and misuse and isolation undone quickly by steady river, parted clouds, and miscommunication.
The wispy whites of blind clouds says don't spread too thin, don't spread so sparse.
The screech of a gaggle of geese; the urge to speed through discomfort.  

Ruminate instead on steady sediment structures,
and the stranger's closed mouth smile and whole-hearted "hello."
All earthly and nudging and prodding to speak up again in class.

Week old tincture
tinted with lemon-grass
and snod-grass
and grease from black beer-spilled book-bag.

Weak old tincture
couldn't sustain relationships that envelop
circadian rhythms that clash and grate against bunk-bed guards and bone hanging ceilings.

Play bill:
swam in the shallows, metamorphosed, gender bended
unwavering and unending personal development through catharsis.

Pushy beliefs pushed on people who don't believe,
who won't believe in the "serenity of a clear blue mountain lake."
Science, and logic, and classical hodge-podge of ideas,
no,
of theories;
that makes sense.

The non-sensical is the warm.
The un, understood is the energy.
The sun shines in hard, unforgiving through the frosted window, blinding me and I trust my instincts suddenly.

Too tired to understand, or too much understanding
making it simpler to punish, and push.
**** virtues,
and most importantly,
**** patience.  
Flying back south and walking to and fro and waking up all on my own
and sitting by the window and biking or strolling with music
to the ears.
Self-inflicated solitariness feeling un-repressive, and un-defensive
and happily alone.

Never let self-inflicated solitary boredom be brought upon by another.
Indeed, cheers to alone-li-ness, when it is discretionary, and free.
Lying through my corroding teeth, I breath,
out mercy and breath in shame.
Over-dramatizing,
the wrong person is changing.

I am different;
You are the same.

Heart beat mad into chest.
Introduction to one-gloved hand,
soft as silk and
hectic as twenty-first century sunlight shining on 1942 stone architecture.

Terrible stench upon entering,
dripping from the bag
tossed into the metal disposable bin.
Echoes; dins.  

Flint carved sharp into shears
plagiarism down to the wire.
Preposition, search the list for antonyms  
and synonyms
and cannibalism dream that wakes a man up
at an hour, two hours too early.

Eye problems from staring at the computer screen.
And leaning, fast and forward into the face
of a full grown, beard.
A laugh, much too much like the written down
pronunciation.
False, endearingly false.