one Last Supper

go back to your student days
of thinking clearly
or in a haze
would you care
if grounded
or up in the air
about anything there
fantascising conceptually
enslaved
or creatively free
missing out on no important detail
remember:  it's pass or fail
on the final page
escaping from your cage
into the outside
rather than the inside
power walking
or hitching a ride
living dreams
buying them
and visionary schemes
and torments and martyrdom
and thoughts of elementary school
acting dead
or playing it cool
in a cafeteria dress
at morning recess
kicking that spinning ball
against the solid brick wall
and a civil war broke out
much later in life
you carried a hidden plastic knife
when i heard you shout
eating one Last Supper
with a faint hint
of an after-dinner mint
while you filled your sketchbook
taking a last look
at all the fast women who became saints
and the men who died too young
and all the songs they knew and sung;
how they slaughtered the bull
kept eating until their bellies were full
rolling the dice
paying the price
but at the end of the day
they said what they came to say.