Jason, not the slasher,
But the stasher, hoarding all the quick quips
Goofy kid, silly teenager,
Always up to something
As he shredded with his skateboard, slipping while he landed the wheels,
He exclaimed, "Dude, I'm ripped! "
Yes he was
So once was this author,
His mental fog growing steadily as he rambles incoherently about film 'n word,
Suffocating every digital page until he can no longer spy clearly the windshield of life
He does remember Jason though, even at age 22,
When the world seemed to stop, and Christmas was less of a gift than usual
So it goes, many safe pairs of pants later,
Less time to loiter, his turn to wait
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem