A childhood busted
with watching reality
shows on TV being
recalled in a future life
by a mother who doesn’t
renounce you anymore
than her other sons and
daughters from the past
who pray for guidance
and blush when they
receive it and don’t want
anymore of that sickness
that love sickness
the monarchs
floating out over
the purple field
at two in the afternoon
above the town
centuries of the traffic
of pilgrims and now
skaters grinding ollies
on hydrants or napping
under the willow trees.
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