At 17 Europe
The Grand Tour a little polish
a little
savior fare
I told dirty jokes in ancient cathedrals
demanded spaghetti in Rome
told a whore in London
I'd a season ticket
I've regretted it ever since
At 14 I climbed
the tallest mountain in Wyoming
an astonishing feat
My mother worried everyone was proud
they sold my ice-axe and boots
I aspired to be an engineer
I passed geometry promising
not to take solid and trig
I come from an endless line of self-made-men
everywhere I look
opportunities and boredom
I contrive formalities to order my life
Experience dribbles through my fingers
I can't focus on the forms before me
The ceiling's no roof
the walls no boundary
My name belongs to a stranger
I've been led astray
by battered music
and even my respectable novel
wanders away into broken lines
I'm given to fits of idleness
Here is my biography
This is the section with pictures
See that's me the one with the hat
Here I am with my gladstone bag
the one who's smiling
that rubber-beach-toy smile
Dan Gerber
