People under, say, eighteen, shouldn’t believe
that their love is ever-lasting,
inevitably pulling them from their mother’s arms, bruised faces
shattered after bruised faces, whole
body systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in pattern. At eighteen we are just beginning
the outlines to our futures,
that if a man creates a friend out of air
only he can talk to it.
Other people who attempt
will be speaking into cold wind. Eighteen-year olds
should stick to soccer games, marching bands,
grades going up and down—earthbound, tangible
events, moments
where they can become winners. You can score
goals in a soccer game, some people
have tutors, the hardships will come
with handbooks, if you fail
you will be forgiven. A child
exhales her breath onto the neck of a stranger,
& soaks his shirts with tears. She knows
the exact spot it will end, at which point
the blood will escape, who will forget sobriety
& who will be drowned under by shame. She will learn
that if she runs into a cave
she will not leave
until she notices her mistake.
Imitation of: Cartoon Physics, Part 1
Monday, March 1, 2010
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