Tom

Water guns and foam darts Flimsy from the start Birthdays and super bowls Slow to depart In the hallowed arch of the doorway Halo sculpted on your bald head From light fixtures That changed with my mom's Style and aesthetics She divulged to me Tom That you've battled several cancers And lost your mother-in-law If I ever get back to Albuquerque I hope you'd like to see me Just a room away but we didn't speak In utter disbelief That I'd reached the age of seventeen What would I have mentioned My opiate addiction Spoken of selling pot Waning interest in science fiction You might've disapproved But I wanted you to know anyway Passing crushed lines of pills On phone screens under stalls I was hiding from myself As well as you and my mom An award winning performance Couldn't have fooled those That have known me that long Should I ever get back to Albuquerque I hope you can forgive me What I had been I won't always be If we were strangers in this land I hope I could be a man you'd like to meet As with all men We were flimsy from the start A fraction of your grace In the paths that I chart Would surely mean ruin For the chaos I will inevitably impart I may never make it back to Albuquerque I hope you all outlive me I might not be the man I used to be But I'm desperate to understand Each ambiguous demand on the marquee.