The end of the parade.
I stagger outside and puke
behind a dumpster.
Been a long time since I tasted that
awful burn.
My best shirt marked with that stink.
The rain on my face may be just tears.
When I can crawl I find the front door locked.
I sit on one of the chairs on the porch
and in time the rocking
no long makes me sick.
Like a boat finally run ashore.
I would practice walking
if I could stand.
Across the valley the mountains
are frosted with diamonds.
It is the most wonderful thing
I have ever seen.
keith pearson was born and raised in new hampshire and works at a local high school in the math department.
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