robbing peter to pay paul wasn't that a western? not in my house where things were built to last like poverty my low self esteem was the only currency valued here my father's eyes gleaming the sun's insecurity was my only form of yoga i've never known true relaxation the restless heart i pray i never will dreaming i saw it on the side of a pittsburgh transit bus sam peckinpah was here like the ghost holding the remote in my father's still living hand his typewriter keys were always here in spirit to sing me to sleep whispering "the little boy inside you still weeps rivers for a lullaby of bones" hoove prints by my bedside a map to places i could never seem to remember i'd always wake up thinking "shit why must i always be sleeping when the magic happens" John Dorsey
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