Perpetually A Kid

There are times to be serious,

even if it’s the kind of sarcastic serious that looks full of composure but, simply, is a cynical resignation. I spend much too much time wondering how everyone else is doing it. Succeeding or failing, whatever. But living. Not struggling to figure out how to feed themselves enough times a day. Or take out the recycling, and get the mail. Or pull some weeds in the backyard. There’s a 45 minute precursor for me to get out of bed. Another before I end up in the shower. It resembles OCD a bit, in that there’s a vague feeling I’m reaching for before I feel ready to (insert verb here). There’s a lot of inaction that fuels stress before erupted in a fury of doing. Often undirected doing, but sometimes hyper-focused. I’ll write ten thousand words or clean the house without really realizing I’m doing it. I know I’m writing, but the volume is ignored.

But there’s always something. How overwhelming is life? I don’t think of good old days, or long for any previous periods of time, but there is a level of complexity to being alive right now that probably wasn’t present prior to democracy. Not to mention cell phone cameras. And it’s this weird pull of hating how informed one should be. Keeping up with politics so insane rich people stop hurting less fortunate people and trying to send up back to pre-democracy. And police shootings. And killer whales. And people ignoring that pigs are smarter than their pets. And much more just at home. Then looking out at the rest of the world. Countries I can’t understand. Countries that don’t look like life compared to smart phones and virtual reality. How much easier would it be to forget all of that and have fun? Then Peter Singer shows up again with John Stuart Mill and Jeremy Bentham. I’m neck deep in Julian Baggini.

I go to bed at the same spot I woke up in.

Perpetually A Kid

Surprise

A long time has passed since we last talked,

I can’t imagine the last time my name popped into your head.

We were young,

Everything meant so much and so little.

Especially in retrospect.

When we can see how small life was.

How small the scope of our vision,

And how superfluous our responses were.

 

I thought of you today,

For some reason, or no reason,

Just because it happens from time to time.

I still miss what it feels like to be confused and in love,

And not in love and young.

Sharing so many moments with you.

 

There is a gulf so large,

I will never be able to reach across it.

Pull you back to me, or join you on the other side.

I didn’t think about how much life can change.

Ten years is so long.

I can’t think about ten years.

When I visit the images and the memories,

It feels like a handful of moments between me now and me then.

Like I can touch you.

 

I’m sorry.

Surprise

Scattered

I will be ripped apart by time,

And scattered throughout the universe,

But right now I’m watching a fence go up.

Molecules assault my ears,

They’re processed and organized,

In an organ that makes sense of the world.

 

I can add up all the years I’ve been alive,

And round them off the end,

But right now I’m looking at people driving by.

With their own concerns.

While I’m scared my vision is failing.

And I will stop making sense of the world.

 

 

 

 

 

Scattered

Letters

If I can add myself to another person I may become someone,

But only if I am aware of my decision to halve me.

Once I decide to rid myself of parts that formed me formerly,

Will I start seeing the end product of hours of thought.

When removed from the current period of time,

I will learn how much is determined.

I am picked up and placed somewhere I’ve never imagined,

Who is alive here?

What is its name?

 

Letters