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I Miss Liking to Like Things

Ball.
Red ball.
Mine.
Dog.
Train.
Penis.
Mine.

I miss liking to like things

Children.  We watch them and we
are watching ourselves.  Face it.
We are watching ourselves and it is
endlessly amusing.
So amusing! How endlessly and simply
amused we once were.
Bored with the mirror? Have babies!
and strap the past to your belly
and walk it around town.

What amuses me now is reflection on what once amused me.
Age has folded me into myself.

I miss liking to like things

It's as if we were all patchwork quilts
and Time were two old spinsters
living together in the house
of their dead parents somewhere
on the outskirts of eternity with nothing
to do but scrimp and save and fiddle,
putter and dawdle and fold
us over and over. Like a dance,
they fold and meet and turn
our lives and then stretch and fold
and turn and meet.
It is how they keep
from dying, the maidens of Time.
They keep busy. And so
they fold us and we age and we
jade and look in on ourselves
every minute of every day
and the simple
thing of waking up happy at
the thought that today you
may see or even be alone
with a red ball or a dog
becomes a funny
thing that we used to feel.

Isn't it amazing?
Aren't babies funny little creatures?
I did funny little things myself - at that age.

I miss liking to like things

I was sad when the dog
had to go to sleep outside and
when the toys had to be put away
for the night. 

Now I get sad
because I am.  I am sad about my
place in life (I work in an office!).
Sad that my parents
(no longer working in offices!),
My friends (still in offices!), 
are being folded
before my eyes, sad
at my own folding.

I am tired of the dark.
Tired of being Time's quilt.
I am tired of looking at myself.
Folded into darkness.
Like a dance.

I don't really know
where I am,
what to do.

I miss liking to like things








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post #531
bio: blaine
perma-link
4/4/2008
10:45

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April - National Poetry Month 2008

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Favorite Things
listening
· What It Is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves boxset
reading
· Collected Works of Jack London
watching
· Spring Migrants