They come wearing relief

and apology, dressed in ragged jeans

or wrinkled khakis. They come

wearing bewilderment and anger

dressed in black T-shirts

and faded dreams.

These young men are suspicious,

now, of everyone, including

themselves. They've tried booze

and marijuana, sex and sleep.

Nothing-not even mother,

especially not mother-can sew up

the fraying edges of their thoughts.

Something has invaded their minds.

Birds have begun to nest on ideas

in trees bare of intention. Thoughts

branch into tangled whispers,

shouts for fertilizer or bug spray.

Words change meanings, demeaning,

demanding attention.

From lives of failed perspective,

the stories fall. The young men

look inward and outward at the same time,

walk the narrow bridge medication provides

between worlds. They remind us

we cannot go home again.

We must always walk head on

into the foreign countries of our lives.