The scars on my rib are a permanent marker
A terrorist at ten I bombed subway cars with memories of lasting laughter
They let the felon ease past, disembark
And after disappear into the dark
A master of my craft
A captain
Cap in hand held on my chest
When landing upon unseen shorelines
New word order makes the tide rise high
And your lines are tangled, wires crossed
Connection mangled, reception lost
But you’ll find me in your foyer wearing jumper cables
Dancing a joyous jig and periodically bumping into tables
The element of surprise is mine, and a priceless brain
But pay no mind when they say the end is nigh
Cos in hindsight they’ll defend the lie
Or just pretend that they’ve ascended already
As many men did before ending a picture in an obituary
A bit fictional and pixilated
A common consequence of aging unaided
To fade into the page and sport a tattered spine’s
A matter of time, mass and energy
All vying to get the best of me
Until I rest in peace, and pieces
Six feet deep, deceased, and on the guestlist
At the creepy-crawly club
Masquerading in my mask of mud