I spent half my life
as a homeless agoraphobe
think about that
I have been predisposed
to fling myself at anyone
or anything that has even
a hint of promise of a home
Home. Searching far and wide
What on earth is it anyway?
as a child I would spend
half the day starving
and the other half gagging
down what I was told
was a meal
I didn't know broccoli is
green until I had some in
prison. Home.
Transitory.
Devilish.
The Easter bunny visits
homes but in our case
sorry kids, he broke his
leg this year and that's
when I found out every
adult was a liar. Including
the Easter bunny, in his
disheveled fur stinking
of gin with two perfectly
good legs.
And those were the good
years