Remember—
those Etch-A-Sketch toys
from when you were little?
That tiny gray screen,
with those two white plastic
knobs—
you could turn one at a time,
or both at the same time
to make lines, shapes—
even draw a picture—
if you were really good at it
and then—
if you didn't like
what you'd drawn
you could just flip
that Etch-A-Sketch upside down,
shake it a little
and like magic,
instantly
with no mess,
you could start anew
on a fresh screen.
Years later
after you've long ago
lost that Etch-A-Sketch,
or your mom
threw it out
and scarred you for life
along the way—
you're living,
if that's what they call it—
Living.
Make bad decisions,
drop out of school
drink too much
curse your boss
debate suicide,
decide against it,
and then for it—
and then against it, again.
You measure time
by hours
multiplied
by hourly wages.
Your hair starts falling out,
and the only thing
more messed up than you—
are your relationships!
and dreams slip away
as fast as good health—
No—even faster,
dreams slip away
as fast as good looks.
Wouldn't it be great
if you could just take yourself,
lift yourself up by the heels,
maybe,
hold yourself upside down
and shake yourself a little,
and like magic
instantly,
with no mess—
start anew
on a fresh screen?
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