To a Muse of Fire and Sapphire Juice
At five years young, I'd jump off jungle gyms,
And in my mind I'd skim the air with wings aspread-
Feathers in my head because magic was my religion.
And at seven I was a card captor, or a dragon of the sea,
Or a traveling elf, or the goddamn tooth fairy
And I wish I was writing this on a typewriter,
Pulling an all-nighter; like I used to at twelve
Where my friend and I would delve into the deepest folds
Of our homemade imagination machines.
We'd make sapphire juice in a big plastic jug
So snug in the fort we'd make under my loft bed,
And we'd clip open the dinosaur Dell and write tales
On ships with green sails and wolf men and rubies.
And there's a song I know now, by a fellow named Rain,
And he proclaims "I'd go back, do it all again,
If I knew now what I knew then" and my friends…
The road bends, and sometimes it twists the child
Out of the man. But hell, I wanted to be Peter Pan
Or Christopher Robin, or have a job in
Unicorn riding or Seek and hiding or playing house
With some boy named Klaus- I didn't want to grow old
Cause' I was told old was grey and age was harder
And I thought I was so much smarter than
Those jaded folk with frowns on their maws
I wanted APPLAUSE and grinning jaws and
Growing UP sounded so much wittier than growing old
And so much grittier and more bold than the stories
My Papa Q told me as a rug rat with eyes big as celestials
And the best of the hills is always the highest
And I never thought responsibility should mean the mundane
Or the taming of lions or the refraining from buy ins
And I wanted to love the green of the grass on my side
I wanted to be crass and I wanted to be snide
And I wanted to glide through adulthood with the might
Of captors and dragons and elves and fairies
Because god or whoever knew I had felt that might before
And then eighteen hit.... and it was a goddamned bore
I snored through geography and abhorred the "grown woman recipe"
And for a year times three I agreed to agree with not being free...
Just another bough on the Novak Tree....
Not to say that I didn't dream; gleamed from my eyes
As I watched the guys and gals- a ton of my pals
Stand in hung light of the warm and the white as they
Felt the might of kings and impossible things and in my blacks
I would peer through the cracks of fabric legs
And mouth along each leg of the Shakespearean prose...
But as green as I was I had CHOSEN the shadowland
And where I wanted to stand was not where I stood
But like so many societal zombies I would glide through
The routine- blue and dreaming but never letting my river teem
With fish. Like a ballet dancer I thought the actor had to start as a child
And while to say I was immature is putting it mild
I dismissed the dream with a "sir not I" and didn't even try
To fly- didn't even entertain but instead refrained from letting
The eggs hatch into salmon that could power upstream
And empower my mind to realize...I had always BEEN an actor
Like a tractor that sits in a shed is still a tractor and that
Lackluster geode resting on the bank, once cracked...
Is still a fucking crystal... God, it took a long time to find my light
And then the bulb turned bright and I thought....
In one fell swoop my blacks were out of sight
And I put on a shirt of the warm and the white
In an instant felt the hug of something that's right
So snug in the fort I'd made in my head
And I remembered that quote fellow Rain had once said.
So yeah, I'd do it all again, because I felt now what I felt then.
Listening to Marionelli's Briony and feeling the
Heat of inspiration under the pads of my fingers.
Now four moons after tasting the stage for the first
And it still lingers - that tickle and that aching thirst
And hell I hate to be fickle....but here's the thing
I still want APPLAUSE and grinning jaws and
Growing UP does feel so much wittier than growing old
And it's so much grittier and as bold as the tales
My mom weaves- as grand as celestials and it seems
That the worst of chills is always the coldest
And the best of the wills is always the boldest
And they told us to be responsible but never mundane
I won't tame the lions, or refrain from the buy ins
And I'm starting to really love the green of the grass on my side
I'm going to laugh and I'm not gunna hide from the light
As I fight to glide through adulthood with the might
Of captors and dragons and elves and fairies
Because I hope god or whoever knows....and so do I, my friend
That I will feel that might again.