Poem 3

i turn back the clock.

i empty

my pockets of all things

that are important

to me.

i throw my wallet into

the street.

i burn

the photo albums.

i erase

the messages on my

machine.

i take a broom and sweep

clear the rooms.

i am not

who i was before this.

i am exactly the same

boy my mother kissed

and sent to school.

i'm going back to that.

to the innocence

of childhood, 

the brightness of youth.

taking with me 

the wisdom i've learned,

all pain removed.