Certainty

As a child
you think of adulthood
as omniscience
the truth is

the older you get

the less you know

Adulting

As a child
adulthood seems lofty

exciting

replete with adventure

and choice,

you don't consider

the admin.

Narnia

As a boy
I checked
cabinets,
cupboards,
closets,
and of course
wardrobes
for a portal
looking for adventure
but even more
Escape.

As a man
I no longer search,
contented
with the majesty,
mystery,
and beauty
of life
in all it's
wondrous
(sometimes mundane)
Reality.

But perhaps
(to be fair)
I remain aware,
still harbor
a small
and secret
sliver
of belief,
for were I
to find a door
I would, thoughtless,
cross the threshold
into the divine
Unknown.

A Bitter Discovery

Childhood is precarious, nebulous, like fog. Only in hindsight can we really recognize it, it's boundaries, it's successes and failures, it's defining moments. As a kid you have no idea what experiences will turn out to be informative, what incidents will turn out to shape you, what events you'll carry with you.

One late fall/early winter evening when I was seven my dad and I went to my grandma's to visit. We stayed a bit later than I was use to and got tired. I went to go sleep in the back of our van as my dad was finishing up his conversation with his mother. For a long time I thought what happened next was an accident. But as I reflect on it now I'm not so sure.

I was drowsing in the way way back and my dad thought I was asleep. My grandma asked him what he'd gotten me for Christmas, presumably not wanting to overlap any gifts, and he replied "LEGO Dungeon Master's Castle". Wow, I thought, that was a very large lego castle from their medieval line, totally awesome and exactly what I had wanted. So cool! But. a couple weeks later when Christmas came around I opened all my family presents and the Dungeon Master's Castle was no where to be found. I was confused. Had my dad lied to my grandma? Where was my Dungeon Master's Castle? I was disappointed but I knew enough not to say anything.

The next morning Santa came and low and behold he brought me the fabled Dungeon Master's Castle. I had enough presents of mine to be excited and fawn all over everything Santa brought me but later in the day when I had some time to puzzle it out I knew the truth. It made me sad and in that moment I decided I wouldn't believe it, I would continue to act as if and maybe if I did it hard enough, convincing enough, I would be able to believe again.

But I may not have been drowsy. I may have been deliberately feigning sleep specifically to overhear potential Christmas presents. I was deceitful and I got burned. This little bit of magic was snuffed out because I couldn't leave it alone, because I was being a self involved brat, because I had to spoil the surprise, I couldn't wait I had to know. And the premmature knowledge I received lead to a painful shattering of belief and perhaps that was just. Fair punishment for a child's crime.

Whether it was deliberate or accidental(I can't remember, both seem plausible) I learned a lesson. As much as people pound the drum of truth, sometimes it's better simply not to know. Sometimes belief is easier in the absence of cold inert fact.

The Body

Although
the vitality of youth
is fading
or lets be honest
gone
I feel more solid
than ever
more at home
and capable
in my suit
of muscle, flesh, and bone
more fluid and myself
even graceful
not like a dancer
or wild cat
more a domesticated
and aging hound
comfortable
and
competent
not to say I am some speicmen
of mammalian might
but I have a certain strength
and stamina
(as do we all)
and know my limits
and can ply my will
with some measure
of head and limb
harmony
gone are the gangly days
the awkward days
the stumbling, bumbling, mumbling days
of juvenescence.

My health and vigor
may require more attention
but this mortal meat and marrow
I call Me
is Mine
with more Alacrity than ever.

Red Sauce

I use to hate marinera sauce
really red sauce of any type,
I'd eat my spaghetti-
plain
I'd order my moz stix-
straight up
I use to peel off the cheese,
scrape off as much sauce as I could,
 and slap the cheese back on there
(talkin bout za)
I'd spear meatballs
and flick the clinging sauce
back into the serving pot
I hated it.
God I really hated it.
Went to extravagent lengths to avoid it.
For Years.

The past two weeks
I've made a red sauce
in the crock pot
and it was good.

I've really changed.

It makes you think,
what will 2050 be like?

I also hated onions. Yuck.

Tired

Although not old
I'm aging
and burning the midnight oil
not as advisable
as once it was,
sitting at my desk
unpleasantly buzzing
dried eyes crusty
I look back
on the stamina of youth
when sleep was
virtually unncessary
each day rushing
into the next
with no account
for hours slept
bed times
or energy-
always there
now gone
taken for granted.

Seeing Linda Vista At Steppenwolf

Sitting in the theater
while the actors bash Trump
and praise Obama
not to mention
the graphic sex scenes
featuring extensive nudity
its hard not to notice
the sea of white haired
season ticket holders
that surround us
and wonder what they think
of Tracy Lett's latest.

Perhaps they resent
the blatant liberalism
or perhaps
it gives them a secret thrill
their tolerance and progressivism
something to laud
over their provincal peers
its hard to tell
given they are mostly silent
or obviously dosing.

As for all the flesh on display
I can't help but speculate,
how many will reach
for that small blue diamond pill
upon returning home-
Enlivened by the magic of live theatre.