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Somewhere on my stroll
with the monster,
I’d lost these things.
Feeling Good
became a matter of scale.
One to ten,
“ten” being one step shy
of shredding the time-space continuum,
“one” being ten steps shy
of dropping flat in my tracks.
Every increment
required meth or more meth.
I didn’t have to go all
the way up, but up,
I did need to go.
After a while, even high,
I could almost
make believe food
didn’t taste like cardboard,
almost float
down into REM sleep,
almost function
the next day,
almost look forward to my
almost 17th birthday.
I Would Celebrate Several Ways
One with my family. My mid-October
birthday always meant a
trip to San Francisco to play tourist
on Fisherman’s Wharf, scarf
