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Polish Boy
I feel all pasts,
As if they were yesterday,
Decades but minutes to my minds and feels.
As if I were still two-tens and five,
Rather than three-tens and two.
Flashbulbs pulsed to songs played when youth was not yet known as youth.
Is today youth?
How could it be when youth was then?
I still feel me, in your arms,
And you in mine.
Before my mind blew and broke us in forever two.
Now I'm new with another too, but still feel as if we're a two.
In school learning why all was wrong and learning to do nothing about it.
Like why a president is a fascist rapist?
We can guess, not know, but our 100-page papers sure would have glown.
Blackbirds, blackbirds, and Polish Girls, still hang in my horizon as if they're here now still.
Soccer, scores, and points on boards remain as if I'm not near the middle ages.
Middle eastern politics seem to ever cross our pages.
I can't tell if what I wanted then is what I now have in hand,
But all I know is now and they seem to cross a single land.
Teach me to embrace the criss-cross fable folded across my ache to be,
So that my past and present can trance in rhythmic harmony.
Do I still cross your mind?
Your face still distorts the time.
Copyright ©
B.J. Fitz
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