Where autism rides,
nobody believes in it,
and the vehicles crash.
Madness in America gave us this lay:
autism comes from television
and screen time.
I laugh at every little thing. [sing line]
This is the public mind.
Where do we go with it?
We can’t take it anywhere
in the fundamentals of ourselves
where we’ve encountered the unknown.

I’m dancin’ on thin ice.
I think this is the public construction of our ego today,
or whatever you call that we are now,
how it’s made,
where it comes from.
Everybody’s ignorant here.
Nobody knows what’s goin’ on,
and nobody cares.
Too many other concerns crowd the show.

How do I introduce you to you?
Let’s take your dream last night
the closer you are from waking up,
when you’re patterning on dreamless sleep.
You’ve gotten down that far.
This is really weird.
The forms bite you.
They do not contain waking life
in anything recognizable
except maybe a sandwich you’re a part of,
that you’re being eaten by.
They are larger than machine.
They swallow you whole.
You were merged with that odd substance, weren’t you?
The separate self was hanging in thin air.
You didn’t recognize it yet.
You were the forms you saw,
and you are all mixed up.
You couldn’t tell yourself,
but you were there.

Have you ever woken up from this
merged dream content?
It’s oddly familiar.
You feel basic with it,
like you’re on a slab of reality
you’ve know before,
when you first woke up from sleep,
somewhere in womb-time,
but I think after we’re born the show begins,
when we hold the world tight
indistinguishable from it.
We are merged in our identity
with all around us,
but the body localizes us
in our surroundings,
and we are so bodily there.
Mommy and springtime,
that’s the season we wear.
Her face, her touch,
her smell,
we know those are safety measures,
and we don’t know much else.
It depends upon the daddy.
Some are right there,
and it doesn’t have to be a parent.
I can’t give you the lists
without breakin’ ‘em up.
We’ve got to talk about the thing.

I think slowly we wake to the blows of life,
its insistence on its kin,
and we separate ourselves from our environment
slowly,
little by little.
You can see this happenin’
if your look’s engaged.
That sense of separate self is precious
a wee one becomes a person in.
Are you three
when you’ve balanced life
and can give a wink to other people
here I am, here I am, how do you do? [sing line, popular nursery rhyme]

I’ve just studied your rabbit.
You think you’re localized in space
a separate consciousness in time.
No, that’s learned.
Now put all this in a TV show,
some stupid video,
and you see what you got.
I can’t distinguish myself from time and space
to begin with.
Now add another layer,
the absurd,
the inane,
the chocolate freeze cake,
and some children don’t make the match.
They can’t distinguish themselves in time,
and spectrum autism
makes them their relationship with the world.

One in 36 is it?
Anyway it’s huge.
I can babysit
a two-year-old,
and I don’t have consciousness breathin’ down my neck.
I make contact with the kid
casually.
I understand his price.
I see him there
pullin’ himself out of the world,
tryin’ to make himself work in it.
I dream about him,
have him in vision.
We have open lines of communication,
and I don’t wanna mess it up,
that delicate balance he has with the world
as he’s findin’ himself in it.

No extra touches when I wash his penis,
no emotions in my hand,
and I’m careful with that anus.
(I have no sexual desire for the child.)
I think these are where he is localized now
as the body reaches the sky,
right there at the birth of thought.
No they are not the majors in the room
that determine his life.
There’s just so much feeling there,
and feeling’s what it’s all about
when you’re two.

I’m crowdin’ in on your crash course in reality.
I’m tellin’ yah how it’s made,
our sexual preference,
our sexual alliance with the world.
We can become gay or straight,
pedophile or necrophiliac,
and the list goes on,
and we can this and that
or just someone who harass women,
touch them somewhere
they don’t know where it’s at,
respect,
and if you wanna rapist touch them more momma.
An old movie,
don’t worry;
I’m taking it to see daylight.
It won’t take long.

We need good parental hands
with everybody who handles them,
our genitals.
The equations will reach the sky
with anybody who touches them,
or squeezes them against ourself
in diaper rub.
Add some kissin’ on top of that,
real romantic feelings
with some male role model,
and if you’re boy you’re gay.
Watch and see.
I just let the cat out of the bag.
Can you see it?

Autism spectrum disorder,
it’s not the only thing that comes out of our threes.
Every touch counts.
Every moment’s involved with us.
A screaming parent,
two fighting parents,
and that’s joined in our identity don’t you see?
You got it all wrong.
Those years count the most,
and they’re the hardest to bear,
aren’t they?
Hit that child and see
you’ve got a child there
the world has slapped by,
and they’ve been betrayed by everybody.
Can’t you see it on their face?
Don’t you know it’s in their pain?

I love you Dylan.
I really do.
Anyway,
there, I’ve done it,
showed you reality.
Can you get my dig?
Cryin’ all the time, [sing line, from the song “Hound Dog”]
no.
We wipe their tears with our love,
always addin’ to the world
their place in it,
and the roles are clear,
and that’s heavy, ain’t it?

I can bring understanding
to many roles in your life
and to horrible times.
I can do that.
When you even begin to walk,
we’re gettin’ some stuff done.
We’re gettin’ some stuff done put well on you.
Like what can you do
if nobody wants to be well?
Kid you know
travel love,
and make that the aim of life
the immediacy of this moment.

May all your memories and all your steps,
may they be easy.
Okay,
I’ve tuned you to the ages.
That explains it,
what went wrong.
Daddy, daddy! [vision of Dylan standing and turning to look at me and saying this]
Come there
even for your own purpose.
You know as well as I know
the movies,
trauma is almost illegal I’m carrying
to bring Dylan through this touch and screen of madness,
someone
experiencing the world
his play bubba,
his romance,
his mastery,
and we all look for spiritual change,
don’t we?
Evolution,
it’s what’s you do with a kid.
It be like
huggin’
sha-la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la tee-da [sing line, song “Brown Eyed Girl”]
and never gettin’ caught in it.
You’re free.
Why would you want to take a child anywhere else?