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Breaking Silences

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Breaking Silences, cc&d v173.5 front cover, 2007

This appears in a pre-2010 issue of cc&d magazine.
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cc&d v170

A poem written while listening to Billy Joel

Brandon Kinkade

Bear open your naked soul, young one, and walk patiently one
uncoordinated foot in front of the other
in through the out door.

Let the cold Northern breeze wrestle with
the uncombed, shaggy back ends of your hair.

Never be bribed into a staring contest with the past.
For her soft brown eyes will drown you into a pool
of guilt and submission.

Don’t dare glance back over your left shoulder,
not even out of curiosity of what it could have been!
Only dare to push yourself forward like an assembly line
through the love streets and soft parades of the big city.

Plaster a smile end to end across your youthful face and
run blindfolded and cross-eyed doped up on caffeine and amphetamines
through America’s open court yards.

Stand free kicking dust up from alligator boots with your thumb sticking up fashionably
Out of a black-tanned leather jacket.

You’re a trained model of James Dean
with oil drenched hair seeping over Buddy Holly glasses and
a movie script with an acting class receipt crumbled like
The Berlin Wall in the back pocket of your leg hugging jeans.

Your California dreamin’ to quote cheesy 80’s flicks,
light Johnny Depp’s cigarettes, guzzle the cheapest Wal-Mart wine like all other West Hollywood trash, and make love on a freshly washed beach towel against the crashing symbols of the oceans’ motherly arms.

Maybe we can force open the chest of life and stage a fake retro revolution, Protest against corporate America, lay openly in Midwestern farms on sticky, hot Summer nights passing the hash pipe while counting the stars and contemplating
on middle class government conspiracies.

Tonight, the lights go out on Broadway.
The snow pours heavily like a broken faucet around us as we
Latch onto each other like two sea urchins grasping tightly to coral
for dear life against the tide.

Forever and a day, my sun will rise and set like a kitchen timer in your eyes.



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