Poem 54 Revised

She kicked down the no trespassing sign
and aerated our photo albums with her high-heels.
No bearded men bard of woeful wandering
only the go forth of American manifest, fools.
We can’t laugh about it yet, but we can have
face powder conversations on the public trans.
If my mother had sat me down to explain integrity
she would have gnawed her tongue off before it reached her cheek.
Me sprawled out street side in the summer heat, I know five people
who would pass by. That’s the truth about growing up. Enemies grow
Out of friends. West coast sentimentality and East coast precipitation
look the same until you dry your sopping sleeves.
Attempting to order coffee just became a contact sport. Counting down
the days until reality sets in; realizing counting is my new reality.
Please, darling, if we’re not going to be chums, 
do try not to poison me… yes that’s what I said, soy milk.

—ECW 
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