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I’m an old soul in a new moon,
educated by good ol’ boys
wearing their blue suits, under the
thickness of a reflected gray
sky and the eddying shocks of stirred
water and whirling moonlight. Beating
down my baffled soul, they left me
climbing back up from a sunken
path only to see them riding
like aristocrats in sedans,
sedans permitted only to
the most privileged of humans.
Where is the hiccup for this man’s
misfortune? Where is that pretty
penny? That swagger of ego?
Don’t hand me a suit of blue and
Cloak me eternally in your
emotional, egoless guilt.
I possess the resources you
married to intent; your prison
psychosis is not my whole world.
Selective amnesia of your
past is not my disease. Release
me from your tango in the grass;
I am an old soul in a new moon.
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