1998-2019 (Poem)
1998-2019
A dry scalp, no waves
and bare feet in dirt
in January made me
a normal kid. I drew Vin Diesel
and Tracy McGrady
because talking to girls
cost me more
than Walmart sketchbooks.
What was I afraid of?
Was it failing literature
or succeeding at disappearing
from the high school, social circles?
I use to think Aaron Neville
and Peabo Bryson
knew something that my mom
and dad didn’t.
So, I preferred their wisdom
over my parents
and that of peers.
I held private viewings
in my room at night.
This was before R'kelly's
tapes leaked
and my computer access
was revoked.
The audience included
me and my adolescences.
I thought we would grow up together.
We had choices—
Tyra Banks or Pamela Anderson—
when the door was closed
and the REM sleep network
offered special channels.
I didn’t start burning
the gas station magazines
until I was old enough
to buy them. Conviction
Ate away at me
like the mice under the bathroom sink,
gnawing for the green cubes.
I recall the ashes hidden in a Folgers' can
behind the house.
Mom couldn't see me like that.
My teachers never understood
why I preferred fart noises
and paper air planes
over acing tests
and completing group projects.
I was never held back
a grade, but my first date
occurred around graduation.
So did the kiss. Her lips
were wet and hungry.
I starved her one summer
of giving her what she thought
she deserved. Reintroduced
to Anita Baker in a sunroom
after our break up,
I knew all
would never be the same.
Dry hands, no lotion,
and a sweet fiancé
who cared enough
to hand me a small bottle
of Jergens made me
a normal man.
I drew money from the account
to purchase gifts
for my groomsmen
and $0.50 stamps
to mail off Save The Dates
because growing without her
will cost me more
than before.
A dry scalp, no waves
and bare feet in dirt
in January made me
a normal kid. I drew Vin Diesel
and Tracy McGrady
because talking to girls
cost me more
than Walmart sketchbooks.
What was I afraid of?
Was it failing literature
or succeeding at disappearing
from the high school, social circles?
I use to think Aaron Neville
and Peabo Bryson
knew something that my mom
and dad didn’t.
So, I preferred their wisdom
over my parents
and that of peers.
I held private viewings
in my room at night.
This was before R'kelly's
tapes leaked
and my computer access
was revoked.
The audience included
me and my adolescences.
I thought we would grow up together.
We had choices—
Tyra Banks or Pamela Anderson—
when the door was closed
and the REM sleep network
offered special channels.
I didn’t start burning
the gas station magazines
until I was old enough
to buy them. Conviction
Ate away at me
like the mice under the bathroom sink,
gnawing for the green cubes.
I recall the ashes hidden in a Folgers' can
behind the house.
Mom couldn't see me like that.
My teachers never understood
why I preferred fart noises
and paper air planes
over acing tests
and completing group projects.
I was never held back
a grade, but my first date
occurred around graduation.
So did the kiss. Her lips
were wet and hungry.
I starved her one summer
of giving her what she thought
she deserved. Reintroduced
to Anita Baker in a sunroom
after our break up,
I knew all
would never be the same.
Dry hands, no lotion,
and a sweet fiancé
who cared enough
to hand me a small bottle
of Jergens made me
a normal man.
I drew money from the account
to purchase gifts
for my groomsmen
and $0.50 stamps
to mail off Save The Dates
because growing without her
will cost me more
than before.
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