Flowery bright red florid fool
with bright yellow boots
on an even yellower background
I know you are going where I am going
because I am always going there,
I know we will meet each other
in some semblance of a field of battle
riding thru with huge magnetic hatted
bar besotted hilariously cape-wearing
microphone-blowing John Landino
reveling in pure un-chased Mariolatry on the last
dick waving stage, being generous with everyone
in those garage days, manly and simultaneously
henlike like Allen Ginsberg, beloved father.
And yet I am excited
with my eye-ring
expecting to meet you,
as if I were a David Lynch camera
trained on a shoe store
I am coming home
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