Suburban Revelation
Walking down the sidewalk
trying to beat the heat carrying a pizza and
a pint of ice cream. Up ahead there is a kid
in the street. He is cocking and firing a
very large toy gun at birds and
squirrels. As I approach he squares
off at me and fires again. Then he hefts
the gun before him and points to an
implausibly proportioned logo on the side of it. He smiles hugely, and through gritted teeth and a constricted larynx he says, “Fortnite.”
I too am impressed and say,
“If I were your age I’d be happy to have that
rifle too.” He stands in the street grinning as
if anticipating an escalation to
our little exchange. But I only smile and with a cool nod, I keep
walking.
As I write this little poem while I juggle my
pizza and ice cream, I hear
his mother call to him and speak in shame laden tones
of kindness. And I know that I too have been scolded by my mother and have learned to numb myself
to overwhelming energies meant for a much different time.
