The last song for Calvin and Hobbes

 
we were gods and kings
in a paper mache forts

we pinky-swore to
never let the bastards
grind us down

we ate roadways
with rubber soles
and rubber tyres
while clouds
rested on
mountains
like fat sheep

i visit the clubhouse
a final time before demo
and smile at the dusty
comic books

and like my namesake
in our duo of terror and
malicious glee
I feel as if
I'm stuffed,
and sitting in a corner
of the room,
waiting only
for you to walk in

to animate me.

I guess that piece of me
remains with the sun-worn
comic books

still

as i remember it

still