In the little bar
where I fall
out of my shell
after hard days
I have met
angry shades
of my ancestors
many times
I would not say
these are reunions
with loved ones
who have passed
as I never knew them
in life and they seem
suspicious
when they see me
and further
I would not call
the reception they give me
a welcome as they
give me their backs
until near the end
of the night when
after last call
they shuffle past the table
where I’m rolling my head
and shouting at the bouncer
As they reach the door
one will inevitably
turn back and speak of acorns
not falling far enough
away from the tree
Dark Matter 