the interwar kid | Teen Ink

the interwar kid

October 4, 2010
By BlueAstronaut PLATINUM, Herndon, Virginia
BlueAstronaut PLATINUM, Herndon, Virginia
33 articles 36 photos 21 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Tiny curtains open and we hear the tiny clap of little hands
A tiny man would tell a little joke and get a tiny laugh from all the folks"

Missed the Boat - Modest Mouse

yesterday, I lay in my fishbowl world
staring at the ice cube clouds beginning to curl.
I wove a pair of fishnet doves,
and set them free without any gloves.
the grass was growing much too short,
it’s length made for a phlegmatic sport.
slicing shins and hacking calves.
when did rugby ever make such trash?

a comrade comes singing songs of hope,
cruel happiness floating him higher than dope.
I can see straight through his empty eyes
beyond the tear ducts that laugh when he cries.
inside his soul, an abundant abyss,
lying asleep’s the boy I would kiss.

I am wandering in the emptiness
that surrounds my wilted smile.
follow me. follow me; get lost for a while.

my giddy aunt and monkey’s uncle gave me miles of uncharted wisdom
and tasked me with its unraveling; kilometers of endless traveling.
I am tired, worn, and sore; given up understanding the world.
1,000 channels, with not a drop to drink,
crying over spilt milk, cowering in anything but the kitchen sink.

sister sailor made a soup and surlyly served it to her troupe.
I, she left out to dry, farther in and lesser nigh.
follow me. follow me; get lost for a while.

the blue eyed clown sat with me with a smile.
wearing a taffeta suit and a voice like brandy
his stumps of teeth a memory; a childhood handful of melted candy.
together we wait for Haley’s Comet
suffering from nightmares of projectile vomit.
a circus of paramedic horror is what we are
finding ourselves stuck in mischief like young fingers in a cookie jar.

but today is a miracle, that’s why now’s called the present
and hey, if it’s too clear for her let Jello cloud the heavens.
I spend my wallowing afternoons, with pennies dull and sharp;
watching the sketchy retro’s show shining through the bold brass clouds,
a brilliant neon triple glow. the west has won. I told you so.

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