Past Perfect
My life is a contract An allegiance to the present Which everyone belongs to Like a church Or a Planet Fitness membership. Every day I clock in By opening my eyes And then I go through the motions of the morning as if I am here as attentive as a caretaker when most of the time I’m Secretly A hobo Riding the rails Weaving through The clouds That I would love to slip into Like a puffer jacket If it would Just open its arms. I would linger longer in the now If I could But lately it has been too punishing And moving way too fast As if the guy in charge of The carousel Is hammered And off somewhere Having himself A smoke While we all spin out of control Flying in all directions off horses And elephants. So I choose to leave As often as possible. By listening to music from a time when Presidents were glamorous And feet were bare And bottoms were belled And hair had no limit Flowers were currency Aging was unimaginable And forever Was the only imaginab...