Phat laces/Skating rink blues

I remember as a young boy, the smell of salt water.
I remember the longing for a male figure.
I'd ask,"Will you be my Dad?"
He'd answer, "No, but I'll be your Bubba."
I remember as a young boy trapping insects in milk jugs
and kicking them around the yard.
I remember never wanting to do that again.

I remember touching myself to the essence of women.
I also remember watching along side the road for
wild marijuana.
I would walk for miles from my home to pick fists fulls of some poisonous
weed that I'd carry home in my pockets.
Smoke it in the garage buried deep within the yellow pages.
I'd watch break dancing movies and huff spray paint.
I'd hang from the rafters.
I'd see the future and know that
deep within my being that it had nothing to do with me.


Ray Ray from Tampa Bay

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9inety's picture

You too huh!

I did almost the very same stuff...

ever hear of weldwood?

sometimes I wonder if I really remember anything anymore..

brain cell genocide



by the way you are a great poet

"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"

Dylan Eliot

MyinsecureSelf's picture

I like this poem a lot, and I

I like this poem a lot, and I agree with satsong that your last three lines are the best.

ray_strickland's picture

Thank you my friend. Means a

Thank you my friend. Means a lot.