(no subject)
This is the kind of note that gets passed in the pouring rain; in between the rows of desks in a classroom while a teacher drones on about polycentric norms and social identity disorder; at your first dance when the girl you like is busy adjusting her blonde pigtails to the chords of Wonderwall and a Gallagher brother's rusty voice.
It is the kind that gets lost among movie stubs and jagged-edged newspaper clippings, the kind that gets soft around the edges from being in your pants' pocket for too long, the kind that eventually ends up with faded and smeared ink from the heat of your palm.
It's the kind that you have memorized without even needing to see, the kind that you sometimes dream about long after you've moved on from that stage of your life, with a wife pressed into your side and the baby monitor's lights blinking softly to signal that life goes on.
And yet, for everything it is, there are at least two things that it is not.
It is not the kind that proves that petitions are poetry and that poetry is a petition. It will not tell you how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop. It will not tell you the population of Persia versus the population of Iran, or divulge what the perfect recipe for Texan country fried chicken like your grandma-mere used to make is. It will not remind you that you need to wear sunscreen, or that onions make the dog sick.
This is the kind of note that is no more than paper and ink, no more than thoughts and :) and ;dskf;ldkf;lsdkfkdskfd. This is not the kind of note where I dot all of the 'I's with hearts and end it with LOVE ALWAYS, ASH.
This is the kind of note that never was and never will be.
This is not the kind of note that I write and then tear up before it ever gets the chance to know the curve of your hipbone and the jingling of quarters and dimes in your pocket.
It is the kind that gets lost among movie stubs and jagged-edged newspaper clippings, the kind that gets soft around the edges from being in your pants' pocket for too long, the kind that eventually ends up with faded and smeared ink from the heat of your palm.
It's the kind that you have memorized without even needing to see, the kind that you sometimes dream about long after you've moved on from that stage of your life, with a wife pressed into your side and the baby monitor's lights blinking softly to signal that life goes on.
And yet, for everything it is, there are at least two things that it is not.
It is not the kind that proves that petitions are poetry and that poetry is a petition. It will not tell you how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop. It will not tell you the population of Persia versus the population of Iran, or divulge what the perfect recipe for Texan country fried chicken like your grandma-mere used to make is. It will not remind you that you need to wear sunscreen, or that onions make the dog sick.
This is the kind of note that is no more than paper and ink, no more than thoughts and :) and ;dskf;ldkf;lsdkfkdskfd. This is not the kind of note where I dot all of the 'I's with hearts and end it with LOVE ALWAYS, ASH.
This is the kind of note that never was and never will be.
This is not the kind of note that I write and then tear up before it ever gets the chance to know the curve of your hipbone and the jingling of quarters and dimes in your pocket.