By ice rivers
Matter is indestructible.
If I went back to my old backyard and dug it up,
I would find Daddio.
Daddio is plastic so Daddio didn’t decompose.
He’s still in that backyard,
two miracles and a life short of sainthood.
The backyard is more real than real estate
The backyard is also the subconscious.
Everyone has a backyard.
Daddio is one of millions
that lurk in my backyard.
Everyone, everything and every thought
ever is in all backyards.
Daddio is everywhere.
In the backyard of everyone
reading these words.
Always been there
Everything in the backyard is trying to come to the surface,
to get back into memory,
to be unearthed,
turned into an idea
Fake Elton John
One of My Childhood Burials
They all made it to the surface yesterday
because Daddio came to the surface and elevated them with him.
Happens everyday to all of us all the time.
Occasionally we write it down
or play it on a trombone
or dance in the moonlight all alone