dear jimmy,
how did you handle so well
playing the part of the misunderstood?
the dark-haired fallen angel
that must be up to no good -
invoking spirits of psychedelic sounds
and mystic crystal revelations?
did you enjoy the fear people had in their eyes and hearts
because you were the unknown
that they wanted to perish
under the rug so fast -
did you enjoy Bowie telling you
to go back to hell from whence you came -
back to your black candles and Four Sticks and Hermit cards?
i'm a Hermit, too. because
these picket signs telling me "God Hates Fags" are held by
pastors who think satan's hate in their hearts
will buy a Stairway To Heaven.
how did you handle so well
the whole world either
banishing you
or expecting seduction from you
all because of your
anxious, perfectionistic way
of hiding behind your raven-haired curtain charade?
tears fall as my thumbs trace
spines of records, a rainbow flag dig out of the trash
below my undercover-Christian bed.
your wails of magic, mystery and wonder
into a blanket of a starry sky
makes me wonder if you know...
there are a million "strange" kids out there,
finding solace in knowing
they have you to run to.
