what does it mean to grow up as a kid?

think of your development

as an inverted decision tree in wormy soil

filled with lateral half ways like confusion or puberty.

flatline constructs make a treehouse. Choice

becomes the scary flashlight lit stories

creeping in the wood where children sleep

after the fires die. what are we chasing now?

treefort vine leaping into a thousand warm midatlantic tubs.

canned walkie talkie paintings,

marco polo collage, jejune conveyance,

ice pops to frozen mixed whiskey shakes,

the little ways we sign sin, ways to stay

kids. drink up buttercup, there’s a nap

in your future, a formulaic follow through.

rumors play on a track now, yet

you can still hear the pain of the world.

hello catatonia,

my cocktail that inputs simple sleep, outputs

something older. hometowns and memories

skipping like nude pond stones, worlds apart.

symmetrical maturity,

some are thankful.

the pet rock of my past predicted a rendezvous with escape when her eyes flew through the window six years ago.

too much time indoors, behind seedy doors,

away from seedy ground, she needs the garden.

on a dial up computer screen,

the bathroom wall tiling is pixelated. early days of unsharpened images,

sunflowers taken for granted.

what are we chasing now

now. the pendulum goes nowhere

until it lets go. was the window open or always closed in your mind?

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