|Forgive me Desert, for I am but a Fractured Fool|
I swear on the graves of everyone you ever loved
I will not swear or speak ill of your beliefs.
Or pray you would pant for me and not him.
I know I am always joking in the corners, kicking back your smile
which is always in my head.
Would it surprise you if I told you, your Dad
convinced me long ago I was corrupting you
and he told me to leave,
"Hit the road" were his exact words. A secret
I have kept for years because your Dad was right.
The happiness I reveal is only 30% pure--
the other 70 is male make-up, penciled in
with a sharp memory of what we had when we were young.
Innocence and board games,
playing ring around the rosy with bikes and bottle rockets.
I may have sailed off the Summer of 94, to fish
with the men and scour the ocean for solace, but
the sea was a bitch that year.
Your laugh was an echo of the storms I sustained
And I let the waters use me, strike me, starve me of settling down.
Conscious of your addled heart
I left shivering in Mojave.
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