Speaking of things that aren’t fun anymore
(except in that nostalgia sense where the fun
that used to be fun now just feels meta and sad),
what of swing sets, sidewalk sprints, scary stories,
she selling sea shells? I would gladly trade in sibilance,
the term, the act, the recognition that it’s something
more than the sound a snake says, if I could still enjoy
waiting to see how soon I lose my grip and/or nerve,
spending last bits of energy for a short-lived ambition,
leaning in closer to hear the scariest part I can’t not hear,
or marveling that try as I might my words come out wrong.
How convenient if I could still enjoy such things,
nevertheless routine.
No comments:
Post a Comment