Early Interviews
In those days I gathered misfits. None
of them matched me or one another
but they were messages from the mosaic
of possibility, pieces of a soul that might
solder itself whole if we talked enough
of the talk. You can be anyone you want
walking down the street, a twelfth-grader,
Bobbi, said on the way home from school
when I was near the end of freshman year
and she was right about that, a strange fish
in psychedelic polyester bobbing among
skinny skirts and faded jeans just before
disappearing down a decade we entered
in fits and starts, a gang of contradictions
adding up to everyone except ourselves.
