life in short lines

My life was born, pretentiously enough,
at age seventeen,
when I first moved to the city,
baby-faced, with occasional facial hair,
yet already thinning head-hair.

When I first discovered alcohol,
hiding in the corners of fraternity houses,
dorm rooms, North Philly apartments,
backyards, and other places where I didn't belong.

Smoked grass for the first time, giggling,
got a hard-on while lying on Murphy's
sofa staring at Myrcini, and Joan,
then fell asleep face-down on the floor.

Fancied myself a filmmaker,
yet never made any films,
but watched, sincerely, honestly,
intently, many many movies.

Met a young man named Jim,
honest face, Aryan blue eyes,
soft blonde hair, yet Italian,
who fancied himself a poet.

Started wandering throughout town,
just Jim and I, and saw beauty,
truth, energy, realized that city lights
are almost as beautiful as stars.

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