Old Friend

By what measure did you judge me
(our eyes has taken a yearish break)
when my waterless, cracked lips
uttered a slower recollection
than our mutual stare?

For I have cut a few strings
and untightened a few bolts
so that I better sway in the wind

Is it that freedom that offends?
that lack of sturdy instruction
that lack of social rigor

(I can see it in your eyes, sir
you cannot see the me you knew
inside what you see now)

For I allow myself these flaws
as appropriated and balanced pacts
so that I try to think more deeply

Alas

You do not know me, yearish-eyed
you barely knew a previous mind
open yourself to this idea
and step out of line.

Next!