Freedom Prison

on my way to rehab,
sharing my love for girl groups and punk,
with a heroin addict
on the northbound Amtrak train.

reading Michael J. Fox's book,
after the addict gets off in Lakeland
to score "one more time"
before he gets his "life right".

and the outside flies by
just like life and love,
blurry trees and backs of towns,
enough time to take it in, then poof. 

we don't appreciate anything
until it is trapped in the past,
or when you're locked in a cell,
with another heroin addict. 

I vow to appreciate things,
and I hope my radishes are growing,
so I can pickle them when I get back
and appreciate them on an arugula salad. 

it's crazy to think
that love did this to me,
yet I am trying to find love again
in little things with clearer eyes. 

who the hell am I,
but a stupid boy
sentenced in a man's body,
but I am trying to grow up.