I was seven
Sitting in a sandbox
Playing with words

And a kid would scream
"Tag, you're it"
And I would bleed
Because I was

I was drunk
Delivering my daily diatribe
About symbolism, and feeling, and energy, and

Love

And the cop would pull me over
Because I was driving in two lanes
Talking to a ghost
Who couldn't understand

I told him
"I've been waiting for you,
And I didn't even know it"

Mr authority who I deplore
Was inspired by the poet
He let me go
Just like I did before


And later I thought
How senseless it really was
To be sensible