On The Way To Tar Beach

My virginity never matured, as my sanity was lost in a hallway in Queens.
Emotions bounce hard on slate steps and promises never penetrate concrete walls.
The world around you is trapped in little boxes with peepholes for those without imagination.
Both victor and vanquished leave the battlefield followed by the smoke of too many Marlboros.
All that survives the day unscathed are the lies left for the next combatants.
A candle writes your nickname on the ceiling and your induction is complete.
Go forward and defend what you know not, from those who are left to deny as they are the weaker, but why then do we walk with such uneasy steps when at last they point a curled finger and beckon, “hasten onto me or forever hold it yourself”
The folly of heroes culminates under a pretty head of hair