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On Turning Eighteen

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The whole idea of it
feels like im in a purple fog
like something has been lost in time
something that wasnt complete or something that will make me implode
a kind of black hole or white dwarf, the kind of uncertainty that leaves me awake,
geezers tell me to sit down and relax
but that is because you have forgotten
the influential power of imagination,
and the beautiful complexity of a child
after all these years i lie in my bed and think
of every digit before my own
at four i was a master-mind inventor.
i could turn my blanket into a force field, protecting me from all creatures of the night
at seven i was a kung fu fighter, at nine a pilot
but now i walk down the same old dirt trail
watching the landscape change from season to season.
back then, time didnt exist
going through the stages of my life age by age





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