that took place 20 years ago
as if it went down 20 days ago.
Fred was right;
time is, indeed, a flat circle,
jutting out all around our center.
I look back via music and smells;
I can smell Rollie's vitamin breath,
and hear Laurie play Toots for me.
Like the greatest writers
of comedy and horror,
I use what I see like a yesterland knife.
Visions of arduous existence,
the universe rolled up into a doughnut,
and me in the middle.
My eyes scream, because
I am trying to navigate this modern world
with nothing but primate perception.
My heart burns, because
I am trying to interpret the design of lightning
with nothing but these wayward words.
Call me a scoundrel creature,
call for me in the middle of the mayhem,
and I will try to slice my way out of ghosts.
Back to the land of the living,
because I am not ready for what's next,
the place behind the darkness.