High Times Folding (Video Poem)
Published 2015-01-17
Jimmy, I will find you
in the deepest, darkest holes
and corners of my mind. For that
long lost reassurance from a man
too loyal to be true.
And when every ounce of control
on my life, from my hat
to my belt has been bartered for, can
I still fall back on your memory?
Listen up, while I sing your praises
to an audience of ghosts and
playground infants. You can hardly call
my efforts half-arsed nor whole-hearted
for jumping on wagons or following crazes.
I am more you than me, with my slack waistband,
my awareness on trains, and my cupping of balls.
I'll hand it to you, it was you that started
this dancing on graves for territory.
Assuming all four corners of
a childish conscience - it should
come as no surprise to find -
is remembrance of lucky bags, happy meals
and Batman. Hidden twelve years off
is the man I am to be, you would
chop and change 'til proud enough of me. Behind
this grainy haze is everything I really feel.
That you and I tell the same old story.
21/08/2010