On The Wall

At the very bottom of my throat sat a frog

with a golden key to all the reasons why this didn't work out

and I sat over there with all kinds of scars

and tried to think of ways to get rid of them

but they were a new kind of beautiful

and I kind of like that they dated me and May of 1993

I crossed the line into new territory

where I was permitted my own kind of nostalgia

without reprehension or regret

with acceptance and commiseration

from the elder jungle inhabitants

and they stuck out their long, long tongues

to catch us just this way

and tell us we were the same

and we, too, had it all

all---