When I Was Just a Young Boy

this beautiful albatross came to live with us. at first I thought he was my friend

even though he had the untrusting eyes of a stoner.

but then he wrapped himself around my neck like a scarf and didn’t leave

for thirty five years. even though it’s nice to have a scarf

in the winter when it’s cold and dark and you are alone, he overstayed his welcome

by at least ten or twenty years. I would tell him that sometimes,

when I could muster up the courage, which was not often in those later days,

when he would lull me into with a dull cloud of smoke

on the sofa each night and suck the terrible thoughts from that depressed layer

of the mind. by the time I was able to finally start planning

an eviction he had grown from a lost young flyer into a full adult with the weight

of Saturn in each feather. am I going to have to murder? I thought.

cut this damn bird from my neck like a piece of cloth that fused with the skin?

or like an appendage? before looking for a pair of scissors or a saw

I turned my eyes inwards and started shouting into the empty canyon of my spirit

but I only heard the echoes of my own voice bouncing

off the striped stone walls: you are alone! no one will help you! but do not seek change

outside the self! that was enough to make the bird’s eyes open

into thin slits with some crusty alarm in their corners. it was also enough

to make me remember that little boy who never wore a scarf

in the winter because he didn’t want to muffle the very unique voice

with which he was born, the only connected gate,

the only defined center– the throat chakra. even so you can still see the ghost

of an albatross hanging around my neck like a really faded tattoo.