step out the back door and toss up my keys. from here on out, friends, we do what we please. just outside of this substantially thickening window is a world full of opportunities for me and you and you and me. see; see what and why and how we’ve waited for everything to come down to this, this, this freedom, this ironic, ignorant bliss. as a child in the street I mustn’t linger for fear of mother finding what my fate may be. as a child in the street I mustn’t linger for fear of being mowed down by selfish pilots – flying, driving, hoping, praying that the little boy isn’t playing anymore so that they can float on through without conscience, without common sense, without reason, without disguise, without the fear of castigation. No, no, no children, no caring, loving, screaming, angry parents who scold their children for playing in the street – even when nothing is threatening them. from now on, friends, we are the bike riders in the right biking lane that the drivers get angry with because we get too close, we infringe upon their space just a bit too much. we are the next generation of humanity that the last is continually marveling at, shaking their heads at for wishes of experience that they never, no matter how many times they tell us they have – had. and we’ll laugh and remember when we wished we were them and now we’re invincible, ever changing, ever aging, ever growing, ever maturing, ever… invincible. oh the pain of invincibility’s infliction upon the hearts and souls of those we have turned our backs on, of those we have walked all over, and of their morals which we once accepted without thought or conviction. oh the horror of invincibility as, in it, we betray what we were taught from the beginning, what we once loved of so much more than opinion because, after all, opinion is what got us here in the first place. oh the bias of invicibibilty as it stereotypes the love of the elders into something that nothing could be.
now we wish for the little boy and girl in the street, friendships and boundaries and choices and punishments, and…innocence. so we make light of this tainted landscape and the serenity of the noise as daddy lifts me from my feet just before the noise grows a bit too loud… The girl down the street told me that she wanted to play sometime but I don’t know what it means to jump hopscotch. she teaches me to jump from one square to another, from one life to another, and from one mindset to another before I realize that my childish virtue is nothing but a memory. and anamnesis of innocence, daring me to try. Try. reach out for tomorrow, a better day like playing in the street. a better day like holding hands with the love of your dreams when even dreams are not enough to explain to yourself why you love her.
but she’s perfect for you.
and you’re perfect for her and everything that ever mattered never did when everything you ever need is in her beautiful, chocolate eyes. somebody should have told us. somebody should have told us that some things are relative so that we wouldn’t have felt the guilt, the unending culpability of changing the views we were raised upon to support what we hope is okay – relatively speaking mind you. and when she tells you that you’re a grown up now, a big boy and everything I’m holding onto I’ll eventually have to let go of, I’m sad. I’m scared to death because, man if it’s possible, I need a scapegoat sometimes and it’s terrible but it’s true.
what happened to daddy? what happened to rough hands and bony shoulders and tired eyes and draining voices at night when I needed a story to go to sleep? what happened to mommy? what happened to fragile hands and angelic smiles and obnoxious laughter and the smell of freshly-baked cookies on a cold day in January? what happened to them? when we talk it over we agree that they are exactly where they always were – home alone wishing we would spend more time with them, wondering why we’re never home on weekends even though they’re never home on weekdays. so there are just some things we’ll never understand until we’re fitting into those shoes that have walked the mud and sewers beneath the city of misunderstanding and the population of poor word usage and frustration. we guess we have no right to complain.
so onward, brothers, onward unto and into this painted night sky and the fluorescent glow of city streets – carry us to everywhere. carry our longing spirits until every single bulb fades and then light the street with candles until the wax drips upon our drying tongues and revives feeling within our mouths once again. light our hearts with fire and mold them back together. remember the broken pieces that have been chiseled away over the long years of understanding what it means to misunderstand. forgive us and me and us for our peccadilloes and, as the rain begins to fall, wash away the seething, hurting aggravation, dejection, and melancholy sadness that has haunted our being from the beginning of misunderstanding.
ad nauseam, friends, unrestricted, unrestrained, limitless, infinite, invincible – free.
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