The porch leaned way over like those methadone people
but I took it
and later found out the guitar player in the attic had a teen every other weekend
a klepto
and the macrobiotic kid who glided through serene and nice
once a month ate a pizza or something and tossed dishes around.
So the word was out in south Minneapolis but I was brand new and felt lucky,
not that before was too bad
just repetitive, monochromatic, unromantic, a series of paper routes,
cute kisses, standardized tests. A child I sailed out,
stuffed with dreams. One I wanted so bad,
a German girl stalked away leaving me to chat in the trash
piled room of Debbie, reincarnated as John Lennon's beloved,
which I think she really believed or at least believed was anyway possible,
so might as well go with it.
