Youth, failures, judgments: Blended to abstraction and a Set jaw: get around the way You wished things could have Come out, and as I write poems I continue to issue instruction that I am not meant to follow, more like Ironic cautionary tales, scribbled as Aphorisms and distracted from Every occurrence that made its Acquaintance with party, addiction, Alcohonda; driven like a car Across a faceless crowd Full of shoulders and scared Off of my nerves: another instruction Get your eyes on your page Don't consider a sage And smell all that you Would have gotten up close to Reconsider those times And transport one self To the day that is here