Take my two feet off the ground
And whisper to the weeds and sorrows, ‘hello.’

Pat their faces and hold them close
Without a frail glance or intangible grin

Here I stand, dripping from madness of
Solitude, Superficiality, and Sunscreen.
Remembering: you are never alone—
the hours, the hour, when
home meets two palms and stands near by-
WHY arms stretched to

the heavens!
OH ancient image, you sordid grin, I have arrived
Buried within this hallowed ant farm of electric complacency and lecture halls!
Waving fire and flaws

This is the road I travel, not the road of dandelion-faced empties
Not the road of, this is how and mathematical cloud rectangular table topped cubicles!
Not the road of, forgiving acceptances of brevity, truths and warm full hearted smiles.
Because I am tired of this
bubble in
x out
plastic wrapped
pine world between two touch tones
and the sighs of a lemon grove that never existed and a home that never was.