Every now and then, I think about Pizza By the Slice and high school and the greatest song about Captain Planet ever.
I dreamt for years,
Through humid June nights
Spent cartwheeling and careening across lawns
Clouded by flickering mists of firefly gold,
And through nights awaking
To pick at childhood scabs,
As I lay alert in the sweat-soaked sheets
Of a witching hour
That jeered at the pleas
To return to reveries
Of longing to unroll into adulthood.
A small, spindly stalk,
Curved and bent under the timid weight of uncertainty,
I stood a silent bud, shrouded in green,
Cradled safe and slumbering in the leafy armor of dreams.
I dreamt for years
Of a red and gold crown,
Blooming bold alongside a gown of my old emerald green,
Fanned out in blazing trepidation
As I danced in breezes of balmy spring days,
Faint in the hope
That these opiate petals might ensnare a hungering love.
I danced in those fields
I once pined for in grown-up longing,
Danced till I ached,
And knew in the pain of a stalk split into two legs
That freedom is never the weightless, soaring stupor
I once believed it to be.
Days of golden white dandelion love,
Blown off slender stems,
Or snorted up the noses
Of screaming scenesters with manic, stomping feet
Never made any damn wishes come true,
But kept us frozen in the bitter, amber liquid of a camera lens,
Clamoring for an appraising glance,
Or a flash, birthing countless images
Of pasted-on faces with spasmodic, rictus grins
And darting, dream-contorted eyes.
And there are endless melodies
That sing of what could be,
And while their messages of hunted-down love
Tease me of that ever-elusive X-marks-the-spot,
I also hear the songs I wept to
In young and anxious years,
Sprawled on a floor, immersed in words I only understood
In definition, and in the overwrought heartbeats behind them;
Each evocative consonant strung together in experiences I had yet to know.
But now, on a lonesome ride home,
Those songs bubble in pit of my heart,
In a sin-soaked riddle
With punchlines that ring out more bitterly
Than I ever wished to know,
And in the venomous sting of unravelling maturity,
I wish those words never made sense,
And that I didn’t understand the meaning
Of “ignorance is bliss.”
let’s stop making jokes about girls and start making jokes about white boys
here i’ll start
*white boy voice* chill out man it was just a joke
[walks into class 10 minutes late with a can of Monster] sorry I’m late I got frontpage on Reddit
[wipes cheeto dust off onto cargo shorts] so if you support gender equality does that mean it’s ok to hit women now?
My dad offered me a hat just like this one the other day and then plonked it down on my head, and that is exactly what went through my mind. But I didn’t say any of that because the hat belonged to my Grandpa Madeira, and he and my dad are a couple of gems. That look[ed] snazzy in hats that me and Hank Hill look like jackasses in.