1996 (revision)



1.

Back in the days of growth and prosperity,

lambent blue harmonies pealed from my movements.



My gait measured counterpoint in basso profundo



to a lone creature clenched

on the green shoals of Venus,



in the chlorine and methane tinged amethyst haze,

feasting upon its own mustard innards



in spasmodic recumbence.



2.

March and its Ides had just turned the corner.

The park was a gritty sponge not fit for sleeping.



None deserve sight of one better concealed,

so I hid in my room, for days, like a gun.



Then my good buddy, Wyatt (who'd razed

me before with his hex-addled bags

of organic slug menses and thorium scones)



rapped on my door flush with thymine derivative.

I knew he had come to undo me again.



Later I called him. Okay, Wy, I did it...



He knew me, and paused.



Yeah? Huh, me and Hofer had the same trip last night,

man, and we felt the SAME WAY...



3.

Two mornings hence I had dreams of the future that sort of came true.



Though later I realized how all twines together:

drugs, times, drinks, needs,

smokes, her, them.



My days back then were dark incandescence.

I felt pure as an animal.



I knew what to do.