The Screenager And The Groover

His life is a campus novel, a legend
in passed time. He mellows his beard,
dustball feet in hippy flip-flops
and does not catch the drift
of his one ostensible son.

Offshot Zachary's wordy
way beyond jive,
pronounces old man tree hugger, whose nosh-ups
are frankenfood. A brewpub dodderer,
a pilot without jumpstation.
A dainty palate of bytes, chips
and cursors are cakes and ale for Zach,
getting wired is sternly off-message.

But there's a Mexican chorus,
(something 'bout boogaloo)
he reminisces, a lullaby from the cradle.
It's been intensifying like new,
in meatspace, between the ears, it tickles
now and then
waiting to connect.


-Christopher Barnes


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