let's call her April

I used to look for my voice at the
Bottom of liquor stores

I used to yearn for those moments of
Complete inebriation
And call it
Nostalgic
Poetic suffering

I used to brush off books as
Bland and outdated

I used to laugh at the thought of
A poet and a rose

I used to spit on the asphalt
And curse the hypocrisy--
The illusive corruption of a
Generation undefined

I used to long for a song
In the silence of winter

I used to think of the sunset
As something of a joke

I used to roam like a lion
In search of his hunger

I used to crawl on the concrete
And drink galaxies

I used to dream of a bullet
And wake as a revolver

I used to burn all of my poems;
But then I met you.