I bought a tattoo gun 
on my 24th birthday 
in time for
a party,
which doubled as a going away,
where I wanted everyone
to get a tattoo
to remember me by
      (the casual ego of youth!)
a zip code
a spiral triangle
   both on ankles 
three v-shaped birds
   on a thigh
a boiled down platitude
   on my own feet
of course the night devolved
towards the end
my chicken scratch 
sprawled and spindly
       PMA 
on some guy’s pec
it’s for positive mental attitude 
he exclaimed again and again
the boundlessness of a rooftop
on a summer night
my brother got depressed at the thought
it can’t be mind over matter 
all the time
I do wonder
where is that barrel chest
with my letters etched
lumbering off to now