When did we become a library of children,
shelved like great novels
no one had time to read?

As Mayor of Narnia
I declare that this day must be the day we come alive.
I will declare a day for dipping our hands in butter
so we can practice letting go of what we were
and watch our hands emerge as telephones
so we can know our true calling.

The kids grab the rails and run this carousel into momentum
set it spinning with force
and if this merry-go-round spins our children fast enough
you will feel alive enough to forget yesterday
and you will call the horses, horsies
and yell to them for more speed
until it rips faster and faster
snapping from the base
spinning into space

and the children giggle and listen to the earth under them
and realize
that some broken-down machines
can always spin again

Your name is a melody that might not last long,
but listen…
Some melodies get stuck in people’s heads.

I cannot cuddle with someone’s history.
It takes the anonymity away.
Like hearing a magician’s real name.
Like seeing a clown without makeup.
Like honest touch.

I am the kinda guy who will call too much,
make mistakes on the suave scale,
say the wrong things to your friends,
play American music,
kiss you like hell.

I wanna fix what the other upstanding Christian boys wrecked.
I wanna punch out all the smart, clever
and coy billboards you dated before
and stalk all the boys with secret crushes
and place their hearts on Pungee stakes and say Suck it
she’s mine.

How terrifying, that a play about my life is a short play…with bad actors.

Trying to let go of you
is like trying to spit out my teeth
before the dashboard
roars into my throat.

Motorcycle with me across the skulls of nurses
who could not lobotomize our madness.