Last WordsLast WordsAt the edge of our extinctionthere will beone last person to die.I hope that it is a Gingerwho before expiringshakes a fist at the dead of humanityand screams,“How’s this for recessive, you Bastards!”
This Chorus has EndedAt twelve years my Voice dropped off a cliff; Soprano plunged to Alto.High C cracked as the suicide claimed my beautiful Hallelujahs.A final note forged by Puberty's hand: This chorus for us has ended.In sorrow, my Range sharply fenced in its scale. Now, like a cow, I low.
neatneatthat's how I like itstraight up, no icepure, fundamentalAbsolut
You don't take chances like that “Don’t step on a crack; you’ll break your mother’s back.” We’d sing-song this on the way to school. One boy always stepped on every crack. “You shouldn’t take chances like that,” I said. “Something bad could happen.” But how would I know? Growing up, I followed the rules. A Responsible Goodie-Two-Shoes. I rarely pushed the boundaries, maybe because I feared something terrible would happen if I did. I found out when I was 19. My mother, in a long remission from leukemia, encouraged me to take a vacation. I was unsure about leaving but needed time away, so I shoved $300 into my pocket, grabbed my roommate and supplies, and drove west to California. This was my 1983 break-the-rules trip. We played all night and crashed on the beach at sunrise. We cleaned up in gas stations and outdoor beach showers. We talked to strangers after midnight. We said, "N