My mother’s dress is loose on my shoulders
And tight in the ass.
I could just swim in
My father’s cheap leather Dockers.
Everything in the bluegreen light
Of a nouveau eighteen
Is pawing at the starting gates,
Of the insipid vernacular of
Higher education.
If you’re careful,
You could pick me out of a line of rebels
Of the
Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb variety.
But only if you’re careful.
I’m just waiting
As the birds on wires
And naked branches
Claw the real life from this city.
