I still remember in ways I don't want to
and it cracks my clavicle like a wishbone with nothing to lose.
What do you wish for?
Breaking my bones like twigs in rough bare hands?
Too late,
I recovered clumsily with some Scotch tape
and I'm a smiling pathetic wraith
with adhesive for eyes that stick to every vulnerable male possibility.
I sway awkwardly in a grotesque gait
past cemetery gates like it will never be
Winter and my optimism and love of the chill
will suspend Fall forever like a snow globe of vibrant raining leaves
and never snow.
I am a tree without roots, rotting,
bending and not breaking,
riding the wind with a twisted smile,
And singing along with it in perfect time.
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