trainwreck

you've never been on track,

partially because you can't
and partially because that would be boring,

thank god you aren't a train

because I'm pretty sure an off track train

is one headed toward disaster,

you're consistently on the other path

and so far down that you forget to call for a week,

as if you’re on a hike, and take on wrong turn

only to realize two hours later

when we’re on totally separate peaks,

 

the 11-year-old in you is getting bloody noses

from accidents related to walking into things,

like that time on the very public streets of Boston,

when you could’ve been going in a straight line

but became mesmerized with Samuel Adam’s grave,

then your feet kept going

while your mind was stuck

on the Founding Father’s skeleton beneath you,

and suddenly a street lamp jumped

into the middle of the sidewalk

it definitely wasn't there before,

 

my brain doesn't always fit into my cling-wrap skull
a wet towel isn't easy to breathe through,

I can pedal for hours but I can't get very far

on a stationary bicycle,

maybe you could show me

how to get off track

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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