Time Machine - a poem

Time Machine

Hopped, skipped and jumped into the driver's seat
and gunned it to eighty-eight hoping for  fresh start
on a freshly plotted stretch of road.   Morphing
through the ever after, back to the far thereafter,
an expectant mother gives birth to her second baby
boy.  You see it's you and you want to fix the outcast
little problem child before he can continue on
become an outcast little leach, and you don't know
just how to go about executing yourself.
Jump back into the thing-a-ma-jig and tag your friends
on Facebook posts and hope one day you'll get out
of High School whole.   Half the time spent drifting
through dreamscapes in the day time, elbows up
on little tables, and doing little test, fill in the bubbles
with number 2 lead.  Standardized in every size,
then run on back with the wheels of a vehicle
and rush to wake up sleepy infant brother but you will
undo the deed of being you, and you'll still
contemplate the truth sayers because you feel
guilty you are you because of tragic Valentine
Day, and give a wink and ruffle to your three year
old self as you skip ahead to jumping backward
into pool of your cousin's aunt, and remember
schoolyard acqauintance getting head stuck in bike
rack pretending to be horse as you and the rest of
your class marched inside.   Take a slight turn to lecherous
relationships early on in your 20's, and bleed a little
again for the sake of the bleeder, but don't let her lick it
up with her forked tongue.  Take a detour during the mids,
and meet a sweet lady, who just can't seem to keep it together,
and try and try and try, too many times, thrice you cry,
and thrice its finished.  Be alone, but most importantly, break
another heart, be there on the sidelines, and
realize so many things are not connected but so many
other's are, and assure a terrified twenty-one year old you
that it is okay to schedule an appointment, and spare
some people the frantic babble of your mind, with a swallow
and a chug of a small glass of water.