when i was little
i would sit alone in the sun
spinning
the pedals of my upturned bicycle.
in my imagination i was making ice cream,
which makes no sense to me now.
it was an escape from the hours spent in tow,
under the harsh fluorescence
of a culture bustling against itself.
~
in other realities
girls my age walked quietly beside goats.
i have no idea what they were imagining.
in fact, at the time they didn't even exist; to me.
but while i struggled with modernity,
they were cut, sewn up, and cut again.
fucked; quite literally.
~
i'm grown now with a little girl of my own.
she lives life wide open
with unending fascination for all things,
good and bad.
i censor her.
not for her sake, just what she shares with me.
~
there is so much I don't want to know
because it never leaves.
sometimes when i shut my eyes everything is quiet
and I can forget; myself, those little girls, and so much else.
reopened, i shudder, and swear to myself.
fuck.
~
