Forever ’03

I would give up evolution, never ask an ounce of restitution to be forever eighteen. I would spend eternity writing stupid limericks about adolescent jibberish and give back all the gifts that burden me. I would retrieve teenage uncertainty and earnestly embrace it, spend every night wasted, let the lion out of its cage and agree to never tame him.

I’d do all this if it meant I could be oblivious, smoking pot in parking lots, laughing as we fled beat patrol cops. Hardly inconspicuous, the world was still ambiguous and we were too ambivalent to care what hardship was.

But that’s the thing
about nostalgia- like
that Chevy
Impala, it doesn’t get
the mileage it used to,

and it’s more rusted
than turquoise blue.

You can drink it by
the gallon,
sacrifice your time-
given talents and
never rise to
a single challenge on
its behalf;

but the math will never
fully reconcile, and
never
lowering the
volume dials still
renders you deaf.

As much as I
want those days
back,

our inability to
time travel is
probably for
the best.

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8 thoughts on “Forever ’03

  1. Wonderful poem and oh so true about time travel! I absolutely adore the bit about the Chevy Impala, being the proud owner of my very first antique car, an ’83 Impala 🙂 Keep writing and sharing! You have such a unique manner of expressing what’s in your head and in your heart, it’s truly remarkable.

    Liked by 1 person

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