Late Night Childhood Parliament

Whittling past the clogged brain drain

I reach back scratching around

A train track silent

Starting to thrum

Of house or home

Back where giants

Have sat for hours

On my chest

At its best I see the whole valley

From mountain or platform

High in the jungle

Above the rest at least

Beyond swinging

Gliding above it all

The clouds officiating a moment’s

Hesitation that brings

Storm to seed

Raining down

In that one tiny spot

I sit talking to these specters

That know it all

They’ve heard

Every conversation

Slight noise of inconsistency

The weeping in night

The laugher of uncertain approaches

The crisis of conscious

The permanent pole of convictions

That I raise my flag high on

And salute

A lone soldier

Geared up for war

Grinds to a halt

In the shadows within

Sweeping it all away

Unplugging that disgusting dam

Of grime that is blacker

Than the sin that is evident

The secrets wash away

With a kettle of hot water

Down the drain

Pouring over strong vinegar

And baking soda

To bubble up and away

From these thoughts

That slips out to the street

To be walked on by strangers

And carried to foreign lands

On funny fragrant shoes