my father, the metal man
with millions of prickly particles
sometimes in every direction
ambivalent, unsure
sometimes in magnetic fields
he draws toward, assures
today a different magnet stirs
i'm pushed away for unknown days
no suitcase, just me
in my clothes, dirty
from worky
my ass thrown in class
hands shake, directionless
wanting the elements
to turn around and
dry, realign
my horseshoe head
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