I'd never had a blueprint,
in a life that seemed to wander;
and my soul circled endlessly
through corridors of books.
down rows and rows
of thousands of numbers
in a library,
where knowledge
was a letter on a floor in a room
and a syllabus was guidance
for the journey.
Had I anything to tell you
in those lost days back in school,
I should have told you,
at the pond
in the field of Oklahoma,
I was too young,
and hadn't a clue.
doing wheelies,
dragging bumpers,
riding cardboard
over ice --
Even old memories have flavors,
Jelly touches the tongue
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