Care-A-Gone
Care-a-gone
is the paragon of existence,
a place that runaway and throw-away kids call home.
This place, this land not unlike our own,
boarding houses full to the brim,
elders forgetful of their sins
- and of us.
We have to remind them of our laughter,
forged in juvenile pranks
suspended by a noose;
a heartbeat broken by a moment,
captured in a halted breath.
Care-a-gone is the paragon of existence,
a place that runaway and throw-away kids call home.
In the pool-room,
the discarded children of the world
shuffle hamburgers across the table.
No "come to dinners" reach their ears,
no "family time" comments either,
nor fists,
nor unwanted hands,
blemish the family of misfits
that we all run to.
Care-a-gone is the paragon of existence,
a place that runaway and throw-away kids call home.
In the carnival bus,
the crippled girl
vicariously plays in the hay.
My love,
I go to her with a whisper,
she stands, taking my hand,
and we run off to the ferris wheels,
and the rollercoasters.
Care-a-gone is the paragon of existence,
a place that runaway and throw-away kids call home.
