Eighteen years ago
I thought you were something.
Clearly
some time has passed
and you
have become something else.

I thought your flights of fancy
your strange ways
were evidence of your wild spirit
and dark creativity.
Probably though
they were just proof of some bipolar disorder
that has yet to be diagnosed.

You seem to be doing well enough
at the other end of this ten foot pole
that separates us.
You still look amazing
like trouble
like danger
like a whole bunch of things
I didn’t know enough to avoid
eighteen years ago
when I was younger
and thought I was smarter.