justwrite 17 january

If I didn’t have to capitalize I daresay I might capsize such a ship-shape shop and sell all the wares to parts unknown it’s a thrown that I don’t want I don’t own what I can’t flaunt and really that’s not much really a soft touch to one side and I’m falling calling in thrall with wonder and doubted by those asunder torn in early morning confusion as a stacked-up pile of illusions come crashing down so easily found those mirages kept in garages for safety’s sake a secret cake in a long-cooled oven waiting for shoving toward a gaping maw the needs that claw but in or out it’s a circular route of where to go and where to escape from the rate to run must slow as the heart grows weary again bleary eyes and bleak surprise in a metaphorical mirror there’s no kind that’s much clearer and the tires that go round and the wheels on that singing bus so much fuss and such a high register there’s no cashier for that sort of tone there’s no phone-home for that sort of alien that craven repulsive fear that’s clear enough from childhood the knowledge that some baddie would slip between the closet doors the open windows the sliver of light from the hallway slightbright for the kids in the dark but it’s this that’s the spark of wonder of worry the hurriedup processing that presses an image that doesn’t exist that prints and publish what can’t be there a form hardly formal but fleeting and floating in a thin slice of light as I tremble with fright this is a childhood fear this is something passed and I never close the door this way anyway I’m just saying no one’s playing with my worries without hurrying on elsewhere and that much is steered clear of

But I wanted to write about something else I wanted to talk about those new fathers walking with empty sleds some still proud some jaunty having not-yet missed their blissful bundles slipped off somewhere along the walk way back for a re-traced track and yet also the forlorn who are backing to where they were who are cracking at the heart and are wondering what she’ll say just thought he’d like to play and where? Back down the street along the trees where the corner’s sharp and all the little dropped-off ones are having their lost afternoons of fun no one’s crying no one’s scared it’s the dropped-off wonder they’ve happily shared