My worst fear is that I’ll end up living in some run-down duplex on Wilshire wearing pants hiked up to my nipples and muttering under my breath. – Richard Dreyfuss
***
Inside my head a gigantic fireworks display.
Can almost hear the Boston Pops.
Imagine when you were me
and you were twelve and you looked around
and all you could think was, what the fuck?
Didn’t even say ‘fuck’ back then.
In your church, twelve-year-olds didn’t say ‘fuck.’
Even those who were six-foot-two.
Incoming!!!
Then you live your whole life trying to fit in
and failing miserably,
so you think.
Not in jail or in a padded room.
Be honest, stay out of those
your biggest goals in life.
That and a girl.
And, did you notice, cause I did.
No girls in jail
and they got their own padded rooms.
Explosions and lights and noise.
Too much noise.
Always noise.
And still try to remember.
How did I get here?
And awaken to realize
you weren’t really the problem.
Or you were entirely the problem.
But you just can’t really know.
Because you can’t remember.
That and the noise.