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 imaginable goal. And then I go back even f