Often I lie

Remember those first shits in the first months
of your coffee addiction.

they're gone.

years later I wrote several poems high on oxycodone.

I'm cleared now.

I've heard
there's a madhouse in a Bethesda naval yard crumbling to dust.

I've read
there's a mad ghost wandering the halls of an unnamed school in Paterson, NJ.

I know
there's a green van pulled to the side of the road off I-70 in Ohio, lost to time.

that's
where I gave up the wheel,
where I was a rolling stone,
where I gave up sleep,
where I was never found,

I guess
some things will always be,
some things must go
some things
some times.