Haze MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   In a haze of nostalgia

I'm sitting in this

chair-attached-to-a-desk

and rock

back

and

forth

back

and

forth

and I'm starting to think about

starting to think

and trying to break out of this insomnia induced haze

and tiny, pinprick thoughts

break through the morning dew

in my head, like

"how exactly do you get to Sesame Street?"

and

"how come only the GIRL ponies get to fly?"

and

"when will

(doop dee doop dee doo)

INSPECTOR GADGET

(woo

hoo)

realize that his dog and his kid are

solving all his cases for him?"

and

"did Charlie Brown ever marry that little red-haired girl?"

and, of course,

"okay, if there were nine people

(if you count Alice)

living in the Brady house,

then how come

there was just one bathroom?

(and to think Mr. Brady was an architect, too)"



stuff

like

that.



Meanwhile, through the holes in the haze,

the teacher doesn't look happy,

and she's yelling

and the class is laughing

at me



and so I wrap myself back up in the warm fuzzy haze of

childhood, with a nice glass of apple cider and

a plate of cookies



betcha bite a chip? not me, no sir, never.





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