Apparently
time lapse
is like a skipping cd
or that cassette
that just won't play.
It's that scratch,
appearing without fingerprint,
or the guitar string
about to pop.
I got lost
between the advent of the rugrats
and the broadcast death of the cosby kids,
harangued even,
b/c I can't tell time without Snaggle Puss
or Speed racer.
I stood,
flipping the channel of the last 20 years
and upgrading remotes,
waiting for something,
someone
to tell me that even though the shows got worse,
my life was getting better
and that my Star Search moment
was still out there.
Someone was supposed to tell me
that Mr. Rogers and Dr. Spock
cannot raise your children
in 30 minutes a day
or in a series of books.
I was waiting for the military
to make marriage work
not my efforts
and make it as uniform
as my dress blues.
I waited for paternity to meet responsibility
but child support was all I got.
I was waiting for my life to be published,
beyond my fb wall and twitter feed,
but these have given more voice
than my closed, hidden notebooks.
No comments:
Post a Comment