ECT

Skeletor,

I got on a chair with my hand wrapped around him,
It was easy to do,
Your boots were brown and cool.
I pretended that I was he-man–
He pretended that he was me man,
You was just you, man,
But you was always just you.
[I can’t remember the gray details.]
A mom somewhere, throw a couch under her,
And more or less of a dog.
Pine up the shiny plastic walls,
And the brown trailer carpet sleeping like a cowgirl.
Do you remember the glittery lull
Of sodium pentothal?
That sleepy sea against my cool face as the
Fentanyl waltzed my trotting heart,
(oh That dazy cat!) and
foolish treebranch bubbles, kindled on silent sparks.
Wind against me and four years,
About basement walls
We wrote in cliches,
Attics the low sky of our punctuation:
"Scratched window hooks suncloud!
Curled dust–
hovers."

Memory is the floor that desperation sleeps naked on.