walk me

th (5)

walk we me to
your weak soft knees
to flattery… your ancient privilege as
clowning youth… but, don’t
expect i’ll rise up
pale and hungry…
cause, me, i leave when
things got personal.

ants in a stream,
we say, ‘crawling’
like we’d crawl.

some kulturs wrap those
babies, weak little
things, tight like assholes.

others make
kids, crawling around, finding
the floor, the dog dish,
the college applications to
several prestigeous intitutions,

walking down main street,
where do the windows dream
delicate sky. walking with
ian or kelly or cool always phil,
who knows a start starts careful
and is about balance and
people and getting out of
away from these vicious idols.




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