Standing outside....

I tried to squint. To just peek, to abandon peripheral vision and logic, and the hand~me~down wisdom I wear like tattered jeans.
To peep through pretend glasses, sprinkled with rhinestones, and tortouise shell rims.


To float.

To play driftwood again.


But in the wee hours of the night,
My eyes pop open
and the new words ticker tape by me,
bleached out confetti hung out to dry on the line...
Somewhere off in the distance,
the old words,
bouncing off a Drive-in movie screen,
silent now,
are bigger than life....


And I'm haunted.



By the laughter. The naked laughter of wreckless nights.

And
the skinned knees
of crashing...



Haunted...
by the accidental high
of wildness.


Ghosts never slam doors. They rattle chains, but they never slam doors.....

In the morning, I'm putting dead bolts on.

And tomorrow night,I'm dancing....