Listening to Trampled by Turtles
and going back in time to an apartment
called 161 on 89,
which I now refer to as the crossroad
of it all.
I could never place to stars at night
above that time ad the lessons learned
as well as the love spurned,
especially from White Harlem
down the Rumbler to 4th street.
Goddamn, it has been so long
since then and since then,
but the violin still has me
and I still check the closet
for other, actual closets.
But I have never done anything brave,
and I hate people who grow blueberries,
and talking about the future,
people who get excited
and go to music festivals.
All the bad habits I learned
add up to 2017 and glitter sweat
where I pretend to be dumb
and still young,
but I have seen so much.