Your younger self on a dirt bike pulls up to a light
and the cameras roll into the next decade with ins and outs
tumbling through the paper drifts of assignments . . .
That was when you repainted your room
with your altered ego
leaving a memory of special effects in a milk truck
before dawn's early light . . .
The cavalcade of costumes was well worth the tag team takedown
when eyes wide shut for unknown reasons
stepped in from another season of reruns . . .
The confusion addictive
but then we were all in the mix of Mother Jones . . .
the Dickinsonian obliquesness
conducive to auditioning for different roles . . .
a shoo-in for this and that . . . this and that . . .
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| Antonio Palmerini |