Look me up if you're ever on Rainbow Road.

You don’t know who the hell I am
she advised. Potions
have neutered my delusions
with ritual scarification and choice.
Tiger’s tooth beneath my bed
I set about the business of
pretending all my dread full fears
come true.

The currents which connect
us with memory’s source
have followed the arrows of tide.
To struggle against them is to sink and

drown in an empty, inhospitable pool.

But buoyancy is most certainly
immune to amnesia;
and leaves have learned
their lessons by rote. 
They monochromatically cluster in spring
and, with death defying colors, burst
before they surrender to the soil
in free fall.
he replied.