Mar 2018
When making the decision
To run away with no money
I developed a coke habit
In the New Shoreham Libraries only
Bathroom
A copy of this poem
Was left on the shelf
By an older man
Whom I introduced myself to
After seeing him smoke a wooden pipe
And listening to him mutter about the
**** of intimacy under his breath
For the better part of the boat ride
To a cabin
Somewhere in the Atlantic
Presiding over a dead reef way
Way
Past the big waves
That I dreamt of
With a backpack full
Of spray paint
And ***** unkempt fingernails
I etched my manifesto on its walls
Circling around the drain in your shower
Heavy enough that the water cannot
Pull me down into the corroded pipes
That contain the same isotope of lead
Your little cousin gulps down in his
Water Fountain at Frank Defino Elementary
But light enough
That I spin and spin
Watching Jason take his Argonauts
Across The Sea of Monsters all the while
Aware of the futility of his mission
And laughing at Homer
Around and around
Unable to control how and when
Never giving in but never trying either
Sinking back into the freckles I wore as a
13 year old watching Silverstein play
The Rec-Center I had started so many
Fights at
All those years I played youth Basketball
With no intentions of scoring points
Committing fouls until
Someone’s dad screamed
My most-liked smile is the one where
After I got my two front teeth snapped by
A knee to the mouth
I looked up
incisors in hand
Blood dotting my lips and chin how Lichtenstein
Would have imagined
Grinning a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat Jealous I am not lost in this fantasy
No baby
This World
Was built hand by cracked skin hand
For me
There aren’t maps in a lucid dream
Don’t you understand that
Like Rorschach told the Small Gangster
I’m not locked up in here with you
No
You’re locked up in here with me
If I still had Kathryn’s number I would
Apologize for leaving her bed
In the middle of the night and stealing
Her only suitcase to drag my things to a
Ferry
To take me to the next Island
Where I would isolate myself once again
Continuing the habit I started
In the seventh grade
Spending 3 weeks in an abandoned
Airport and a pricey sleeping bag
Avoiding the standardized tests needed
When the road has tested you for this long
And you come across Tupac’s rose
In the cracks of the Sidewalk
You have no choice but to pick it
And stomp hard
But for now
We’re getting along fine
To run away with no money
I developed a coke habit
In the New Shoreham Libraries only
Bathroom
A copy of this poem
Was left on the shelf
By an older man
Whom I introduced myself to
After seeing him smoke a wooden pipe
And listening to him mutter about the
**** of intimacy under his breath
For the better part of the boat ride
To a cabin
Somewhere in the Atlantic
Presiding over a dead reef way
Way
Past the big waves
That I dreamt of
With a backpack full
Of spray paint
And ***** unkempt fingernails
I etched my manifesto on its walls
Circling around the drain in your shower
Heavy enough that the water cannot
Pull me down into the corroded pipes
That contain the same isotope of lead
Your little cousin gulps down in his
Water Fountain at Frank Defino Elementary
But light enough
That I spin and spin
Watching Jason take his Argonauts
Across The Sea of Monsters all the while
Aware of the futility of his mission
And laughing at Homer
Around and around
Unable to control how and when
Never giving in but never trying either
Sinking back into the freckles I wore as a
13 year old watching Silverstein play
The Rec-Center I had started so many
Fights at
All those years I played youth Basketball
With no intentions of scoring points
Committing fouls until
Someone’s dad screamed
My most-liked smile is the one where
After I got my two front teeth snapped by
A knee to the mouth
I looked up
incisors in hand
Blood dotting my lips and chin how Lichtenstein
Would have imagined
Grinning a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat Jealous I am not lost in this fantasy
No baby
This World
Was built hand by cracked skin hand
For me
There aren’t maps in a lucid dream
Don’t you understand that
Like Rorschach told the Small Gangster
I’m not locked up in here with you
No
You’re locked up in here with me
If I still had Kathryn’s number I would
Apologize for leaving her bed
In the middle of the night and stealing
Her only suitcase to drag my things to a
Ferry
To take me to the next Island
Where I would isolate myself once again
Continuing the habit I started
In the seventh grade
Spending 3 weeks in an abandoned
Airport and a pricey sleeping bag
Avoiding the standardized tests needed
When the road has tested you for this long
And you come across Tupac’s rose
In the cracks of the Sidewalk
You have no choice but to pick it
And stomp hard
But for now
We’re getting along fine
Two years ago I really had run away to a small Island my college Roomate had grown up on where his classes from pre school to graduating high school was only 6 kids. I had been ******* up heavily in my life over and over again and after leaving college to take time and figure what the hell I was doing I spent the summer on that island pulling in boats at a luxury dock and understanding what it was like to start from zero. My Roomate James had been helping me eat for a long time that summer until my checks came in. But old habits kicked in and I fell heavily into drugs before James literally slapped me in the face and said get a ******* grip.
