there's a new middle school on my daily walks patchy grass smattered with motivational signs: an idea whose time has come and gone but lingers while raging parents ban books vote in racist board members pay at the altar of a cult church vote for the orange shit gibbon. every day a wave of poor sweet souls pass through those doors, last hopeful minutes sliding away with them, their pores wide open absorbing maternal love and gun panic in equal gulps. I remember being 14, life a swirling wonder, trying to catch onto what I need to have, who I wish to be, while hiding from the creep inside. I did theatre then, my weird freckled face coated with greasepaint, my coat hanger body: the floppy scarecrow. my cicada spirit: the unoiled tinman. my soul: the shivering lion. I read Teen Beat wanted Shawn Cassidy modeled Wonder Woman made note: how to protect delicate skin under my eyes improve my posture my skin, my style my total package. I remember being 14 being myself a framework for tomorrow those last hopeful minutes when there was still a chance.
April 21st, a Sunday. I hope you had a wonderful weekend.
Do you remember what you were like when you were 14?
I still have hopes, but they've changed. Your poetry inspires me every time, Zed! <3
Love this!!