That’s A Wrap
People and their little judgments, tying us up in neat little packages
so we are easier to manage from their wee world view. We shall give them
a world of hurt to wonder at, if that so wounds them: that, being
our unique way of defining ourselves~ come let us wear red
when red means sin to them, wrap up in black when they side
sunshine with good. Let’s worship Salvation Army lines while they pray
to their financial gains. Let us eat beef while they eat their sautéed veggies.
I want to wear brave plaids and tie-dye neon
all the days of my old age, dread my locks and streak rainbows
in well-hidden roots. I don’t want to be any more plain than you do.
I want to go on cruises and dance with a dozen old men,
have them meet me at a circus and ride the Ferris wheel,
while my nitroglycerin stays on ground-level with the fearful.
I want to go to raves and get caught up in the emotional movement
of sound and sight and deep bass driving new notes into my bones.
I want to stand on a cliff and dive off, when I am eighty, to see
if old arms can drag at parachute chords better than they did at twenty.
I want to run away from those who would pack me in steel-framed bed
with little buzzers and cheeky bird noises above my head. I want
double bubbles that get stuck on my chin and to make love
in the meadow or belong to the “mile high club”. I want everyone
to know I love rap and that it is not so hard to understand, if you bloody listen
for a minute and don’t make your decisions so rapidly. Let life move you.
I want people to envy the youngest and oldest even more than they do.
We are wild and wonderful as we were meant to be. Talk is free, life is long
and we have a million new things to do before they drag us, kicking and screaming
to that bland old music, a bland old suit, in a bland old grave. Wrap me
in an map of my adventures there and now and tomorrow.
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