At every age are we premium,

Prime,

Precious; at some, we are more so

Of one or the other.

In an artificial world, not of our own making

We touch the greenery differently

Our photos are flower faces & endings

The poems are Haiku pulsed & poised like spears in a thrower’s hand.

And we proceed as if we know what is going on!

Had I been paying closer attention, I might have flicked my hand into the Voice Tree for a quick steal on the way through the pearly gates coming back here. I would have liked to be able to sing. We (us) weren’t allowed to carry much. It had to fit in a pretty small container. The (They) did spot inspections – they had their reasons. We (Us) didn’t ask too many questions.  It was always better that way.

Few of us (we) understood the reasoning. We (us) were told it was complicated, convoluted, that there are better ways & if we continue to study, these will be made manifest in time. We were intoxicated by that “something shiny” effect & followed faithfully until we didn’t any longer. The button just plumb wore out. That day, we (us) usually marched in linked elbow-to-elbow with common sense. And when they (them) sat down at the table, after helping selves to coffee, we (us) knew everything would change. There wasn’t much left after pulling up a chair to hear what they (them) had to say. Half the time we (us) didn’t even listen,

We (us) always made it on time. Too many raised voices did lend a lot of dissonance, but mostly we (us) were able to calm them (they) down. In about the time it took to brew a cup of coffee, actually.

They (them) always had a few promises cooked to the bottom of the pot – tossed in every single time so they burned a signature in the Teflon. We (us) felt we were starting fresh, so we didn’t really look hard. Sometimes we started while it was still dark out. We (us) didn’t really care, young enough to eat anything & not suffer. It was not until later that we learned to Care.

Somewhere that pass-through that says, “If Mama ain’t happy, nobody is!” got stuck to me & I stuck to that for years. It wore off after awhile. But not before I wore out those who thought they could love me. I flamed them. I got through all the drama, pulled my A’s off the big board to put them in my scrapbooks. Going home, I put them away & ate some potato chips.

I guess I thought I could make it through unscarred. I have read every mark on the body is the sign of a wound in another life. If that’s the case, I’ve been through enough to understand why the sags & stars vie for attention. I pay no mind to any of them now; I watch for fresh ones curiously. Means I lived long enough in another life to get pick up one more in here/now.

I can’t imagine what’ll be left at the end. I’ll hook into that energy body & boost right out of all of this. Someone’ll be waving, “Hey, left your purse!”