... somebody's hero...
Somebody's Hero
Don't forget
you wrote about the
passion
of humping a bus seat
to the south
under greasy whisker
clouds, you made
the new day seem
beautiful in a
fresh-sheet-of-tin-foil
way,
banging your head
on the door
to be the first one
outside
to drink rain from
closer skies,
you rode farther
than your mother's
last remark,
you rode farther
than Death
could bed
your
hopes.
