famous too long ago

one day i will get my fifteen minutes. i just hope i am not so high that all i do is babble about how it used to be. you know. back when i walked fifty miles through rain sleet and snow to get to wherever i was going. apples were sixty bucks apiece. and the aliens built temples to me when i was napoleon. pitiful is the base state of poets and i hate being trite (but what the hell).

dust mites in sunlight
living my future
in a flashback