ok, cupid, i will answer. any everything. i will answer. because far from family & the little that keeps you what is there? somewhere soon two babies will be born on the day i was & will be. some new to change. i remember jonas mekas & joe brainard. wandering to the edge waterloo bridge & wondering which poet i might be or which poet might love a walk like me. like me buying any manifesto like money nailed on trees. like this is me not only. a first draft drafted in for free. charly will go to war one day & i will be. interchangeable. i don’t need to be aloud. i don’t need to be allowed to set him free. concerto number three of course i am as sad as beauty. like this is me, here & whatever. of course i am sad. there is nothing bigger than that. of course i am there is nothing bigger than that. amelie once wrote about a life constant & we go. of course i am we throw everything out & lady sings the blues. i choose to live through run-on-sentences & vague renderings. everything. a disconnect. a promise is a promise kept & yet. i am left/centre stage. a platform is bigger than earthworm jim & yet. progress is cylons vs starbuck or tyson in starbucks or other cheap rhymes. i have time to be here a successful. please just love everyone. because i don’t always stop. & they can lead & i’d back them up. & i sink a lead dead wait for a crowd to gather together pick me out of. pick me up. just everything it rains & i know everyone elsewhere. the trick is to be obtuse when asked questions. hide in rhyme & multi syllables. if a man i am cries in cornwall who isn’t. this is a lifetime. far from knife crime. always night time. always patterns & a beat kanye produced in white wood. a beautiful dream. imagine imagery. white chalk. a scene. only kindness to strangers. imagery imagined as all i have seen. in this space somewhere is africa. i can only show you in words. since music & before that this is where i used to be in a time. before the land before this is me. here. before mtv the second no doubt lp here this is waking early to see tupac get shot or waiting for lions to be delivered or in a subway years before & after frank. waiting for lines to be delivered. bill sykes i will never be but take the seats from the back of a defender & that is me. before he was charly he was a boy i used to pick on. in a swimming pool see swimming was this easy. even there we had a nokia. it didn’t work a phonecall anyway. taught to draw. marco had his throat cut in algeria but we never learned french or anything bigger than friends flooding gardens & that priest was mia till they found a body at cleveland dam. if you want to know scared follow me here. there we sat pews deep not aware of death as an abstract in feet. thornproof & red as earth & always stories someone got shot at. a car went missing. diplomatic plates & no more shona than dog or iwe. elephant hills if you’ve never been majestic colonialism. but we got to drink tea. this is me. late twenties. double dropping out. poetry. society. academia. the trinity. these things kept secret. secret to say these things kept stay forever a. memory of memories & the pathos of forget. what is to become of this age of me of lorelai if we are skipping meals to watch early noughties tv what is to become of me. as i mingle to understand the duty paid debt of cigarettes & words. ok, cupid, i will anything. answer answer. because far from family & the little that keeps you what is there? this puzzle has too many pieces. & you forget the picture.