41 and an hour older

The ambulance came wailing little letters turned into words and rainbows fell
into colors across streets where the chimney sweeper forgot to sweep
I come naked into the semicolon semi-sober; 41 and an hour older,
I’m not from Illinois, but I can make noise, California boys like me smile
at the sunshine little wiggles when the night comes tickling the middle,
drinks are spilling, the gentle laughter filling up the bar makes me nostalgic
for when I was sixteen throwing pitches at the batter and interest rates never mattered
I’m Amsterdam-bound lathered in lattes and lackadaisical attitudes
dazzled by the star splattered platitude my 24-karot love shinning
The universe spiraling disco ball style into the future and my cares are drifting away
like life rafts from a sinking ship. I hop on a rat and float to shore.

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