The Coal Miner's Mince

And I didn't remember until right now...
That I look like my brother and my son
except for 100 years later
after they died see
I'm not the 1 that left you
Naked and sticky on a fucking rainbow fucking bridge I'm not going across any kind Middle Kingdom unless schedules change and I happen to wake up time bacon just dad and i cooking
Six am
I'm little. A hand held up. "I'm this many!" All the fingers wiggled wormsily:
Hes a real mountain man. Salt of the earth. Gives me running yolks... like he means to say "I love you"
But that's too gay for him to squeak, we eat our dabb-eggs and crispy bacon huddled up to the green stove funny smeller
Nineteen eighty one or two. In mt scott park love cocked like a revolver that's when I see his chicken legs, these chicken legs shooting 3 pointers arches and swishes. This is how you get warm in the woods. Eat hot animals and move around like dancing and running. And most beautiful; the moss thinly sprouting from the court, the lanky Douglas firs waded in a soft fog, cold dew sparkled with the steam of the stove. Coleman. Great granddad Gardner was a coal man. Died in a Pennsylvania mine. Collapse. Grandpa Wilfred ain't but five. Off to the military orphanage for you. It will take 100 years for the Gardners to regain a sufficient model of fatherhood. And I still collapsed as a coal-man coughing lungs up on the young... what have I done? I raised another chance at us finding peace. Bit by bit this shit will wash off diligent as dish soap. Return us to Eden. Take my grandchildren to the garden. Let them grow. As we never. Could. Anthony. Oh how I wish love were the only ingredient to our relationship. Then there'd be nothing to challenge our stubborn heads and our coal chunks we call hearts.