whats the formula for happiness these days?
Virginia Tech has been painful in my mind these past few days. It never ceases to amaze me, the things people will do to eachother.
From Killing Time
by Simon Armitage
Meanwhile, somewhere in the state of Colorado, armed to the teeth
with thousands of flowers,
two boys entered the front door of their own high school
and for almost four hours
gave floral tributes to fellow students and members of staff
beginning with red roses
strewn amongst unsuspecting pupils during their lunch hour,
followed by posies
of peace lilies and wild orchids. Most thought the whole show
was one elaborate hoax
using silk replicas of the real thing, plastic imitations,
exquisite practical jokes,
but the flowers were no more fake than you or I,
and were handed out
as compliments returned, favours repaid, in good faith,
straight from the heart.
No would not be taken for an answer. Therefore a daffodil
was tucked behind the ear
of a boy in a baseball hat, and marigolds and peonies
threaded through the hair
of those caught on the stairs or spotted along corridors,
until every pupil
who looked up from behind a desk could expect to be met
with at least a petal
or a dusting of pollen, if not an entire daisy chain,
or the colour burst
of a doxen foxgloves, flowering for all their worth,
or a buttonhole to the breast.
Upstairs in the school library, individuals were singled out
for special attention:
some were showered with blossom, others wore their blooms
like brooches or medallions;
even those who turned their backs or refused point blank
to accept such honours
were decorated with buds, unseasonable fruits and rosettes
the same as the others
By which time a crowd had gathered outside the school,
drawn through suburbia
by the rumour of flowers in full bloom, drawn through the air
like butterflies to buddleia
like honey bees to honeysuckle, like hummingbirds
dipping their tongues in,
some to soak up the overexuberance of thought, others
to savour the goings on.
Finally, overcome by their own munificence or hay fever,
the flower boys pinned
the last blooms on themselves, somewhat selfishly perhaps,
but had also planned
further surprises for those who swept through the aftermath
of broom and buttercup
garlands and bouquets were planted in lockers and cupboards,
timed to erupt
like the first day of spring into the arms of those
who, during first bout,
either by fate or chance had somehow been overlooked
and missed out.
Experts are now trying to say how two apparently quiet kids
from an apple pie town
could get their hands on a veritable rainforest of plants
and bring them down
a whole botanical digest of one species or another onto the heads
of classmates and teachers,
in where such a fascination began, and why it should lead
to an outpouring of this nature.
And even though many believe that flowers should be kept
in expert hands
only, or left to specialists in the field such as florists,
the law of the land
dictates that God, guts and gardening made the country
what it is today
and for as long as the flower industry can see to it
things are staying that way.
What they reckon is this: deny a person the right to carry
flowers of his own
and he's liable to wind up on the business end of a flower
somebody else has grown.
As for the two boys, its back to the same old debate:
is it something in the mind
that grows from birth, like a seed, or is it society
that makes a person that kind?