I think I must have deep down decided
he passed more than me
so everyone loved him better
and he talked more than me as well
and my interiority seemed like his
lack of
so I flaked him like flint
until he took me karting
in his parking attendant vest
and then we came home and
we tried to sing like
voix mysteres des bulgares
because I was deep in figuring out
Logic Pro in hidden opposition
to my bandmates
and later I learned that when
he worked the doors
he got every racial epithet under
the sun anyway
and to his eternal credit he didn't break character
until one evening
late in his career
someone tried to
break his ear piece and
by his own admission
he punched that person a
'few more times than he needed to'
I smiled to myself
go get 'em champ
something I'd encourage in him
not my son.
so I flaked him like flint
ReplyDeleteuntil he took me karting
in his parking attendant vest
Love the title, love how this poem unfolds and unfolds. !
ReplyDeletewe tried to sing like voix mysteres! :)
ReplyDelete