My Make Me High Guy

My Make Me High Guy

Listening to Dig,

the light illuminates on just his eyes,

creating the vigilante's mask

behind which he can hide.

But not from me.

The guy makes me high,

giving me wings with which I float

in and out of the willow's fingers,

under and over a castle's bridge,

the wake of the water from my speed

sprinkling my cheeks fresh with moldy moat.

He looks at me as a scientist

conducting an experiment,

the ingredients all stirred together;

the product applied through my lungs,

skin, teeth, hair, eyes, nose, and freckles;

the results spewing like a child's laughter

up from my stomach, rolling down my tongue,

and releasing with my lips

as my sounds and words make melodic poetry

that a cat purrs after the lights have all gone out.

Then RATM jumps

out through the speakers and suddenly

I'm an invincible renegade,

unafraid of everything.

I, too, can tell stories in the dark.

I, too, can knock down the walls

that keep others out and protect me

from shrouded souls who try to control

the raging spirit within me.

I, too, can be free.

And with his hands on the wheel

and a smile temporarily attached to my face,

I become liberated and born again

through my own newfound strength

and a little of his inspiration.

September 4, 2010