Forget About Me

Forget About Me

 

Electronic buzzing,

cell phone bleeding tones,

the radio hissing

some song by Blink 182.

 

I saw them once

in a dive bar downtown,

they were not famous yet,

not even close.

 

And I’m cracking

like old glass,

yellowed by the sun.

 

Fear puddles like water

and I have no old friends to blame,

no old friends at all;

I’ve been erased

from Milton’s Paradise.

 

I would love to shake hands

with John

before I go,

unwritten,

soaked back into the pen

and the ink well.

 

As my photos disappear

in the blue light

of a fire.

 

Burning;

an isolated end

to an unpopular life.