a poem forged from inability and beer

I have forgotten how to write
                 how to write...
poems? and distracted,
first out memory, and square
boxes ticked.

           

            that green hair
            that yellow hair
            and beautiful children
            smoke in the playground

 

afterschool i walked home, took about 20
minutes. i did ride for a while until
my bike got stolen, the brakes were sort
of faulty. maybe it was for the best.

 

christmas was once white, in a house
playing with swedish kids and sort
of speaking swedish. big house,
with multiple floors and a cream
complexion.

 

that was over eight years ago,
in the before time, when words
didn't control my body and i
didn't feel like drowning it
in beer.

 

 forgotten how to write...
what was it but a dream of ice and
toilet bowls?