January 4 2015

Published January 4, 2015 by April Fox

Wouldn’t it be nice if age
crept up on us now like it did
when we were small
hidden behind smooth cheeks and shiny hair
long sun-browned limbs and the eternal
slowness
of youth
until it shone forth with some remarkable
First
A loose tooth, a love note, a wobbly two-wheeled flight
into the grass beside the road
A kiss, and then a heartbreak
Making us feel tall and wise and called full-speed ahead
into life

Instead, now, it marks our faces
dull graffiti showing us
whose turf we’re really on
dragging us ahead
past the mirrors that reflect
where we have been
streetlights burning out, no one there to call us home
the fading taste of homemade jambalaya on our tongues
the ribbons in our hair long since trampled
in the mud

We are taken by the hand and pulled
without grace or comprehension
through a sharp and stinging maze
of inevitable
Lasts.

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3 comments on “January 4 2015

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