Stethoscopes, Mr. Potato Heads & A Pinata Filled With Marijuana

by Joseph D. Reich


One day i’ll just go back
to the deep dark forest
to witness the seasons
and suddenly like some
strange surreal reunion
see all my old pals
again in their party
hats with simple
grins and things
to say that
are pleasant
past girlfriends
hanging out by
a pile of kindling
and wood for
the bonfire
which will
never be burned
the holy sacred
hippie mothers
across the road
pondering with
heads in hand
around the pool
sisters you loved
and teachers you
had crushes on
suicide cousins
who never had
a fighting chance
come back to life
while parted lace
curtains drape right
over the shattered
window of the forest
hitchers always grateful
for how far you take them
and you thankful for
their conversation
the exact same
ceremonies
and celebrations
and awards
and trophies
being given
by the exact
same people
to people they
already know
you’d never
want to know
cause don’t
even know
themselves
in those
decadent
poisonous
gardens
of nepotism
beautiful blonde
haired country
girl and black boy
roaming through town
content in the moment
purple piano
left in the
side yard
where they
keep the
wandering
chickens…

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