My youth was not wasted…

I squeezed every drop

From its ravaged rind.

From nurtured seedling to shadowing the field of dreams

This bastard hybrid grew boldly outside his grove of peers

Roots tapping tender psyche during a torrent of envious rain

And branches blithely challenging the glare of admonition.

His ringed protrusion grew hard enough to endure the endless climb

Of fearless hands, anxious hearts and the plume of a satanic sign

Latent bloom still bearing fruit bore the green of an ancient limb

Yet canopied anima from her tantrums and culture’s hideous whim.

Now I deposit this hallowed husk

In the memory bank

Only to be withdrawn

When faced with destined poverty.

Forgetting the ache of craving

That idyllic innocence inflicts

I habitually chew the exalted remnants

Of provincial recollection.