January 25, 2015 § Leave a comment
train home, back
We may be in a tunnel, I don’t know, it’s night out
Just an occasional flash distracts the eyes
Anxiety hit this afternoon, this new evening
2 weeks cold and then smack
My chest is filling up, breath evading
Suck it in, they’re watching and talking it would seem, even faster across one another
is hot footing it
I want to get a starred first on this next essay,
Same impetus, I guess, as that which makes you time your early runs,
each one to be faster than the last, /longer.
This would be OK if I were training hard and steady, dedicated , but
Teenage terms, these last.
I’ve spent the weekend at home picking out books, notebooks, clothes, all my gear
all spanning back over the years, my different places,
Maybe my stomach hurts with the fear of me at 19.
I pack, in the end, as I always do,
this year’s clothes.
All other paraphernalia scattered about the house in the rooms I alit in.
parents no longer protest. And they’re so happy to see me, undeservéd.
I went for an unholy mass this morning alone.
Laughed a little, smiled,
my favourite part the stream of seven altar girls,
after the one tall altar man. Gotta be a fad.
Also the music group were arguing, one marked out clearly boss of herself,
and changing the hymns as they went. Abomination.
I stare at the kid in front, misbehaving, his brother’s good but he, the squirmer, is readying for First Holy Communion. Flashes me looks.
They’ve changed the hymns. The red ones are new, and atrocious. More atrocious maybe than the old monochrome.
It’s a jolly thing,
The priest gives out orders
BOW TO THE ALTAR
and the other, deacon, has a voice makes me wonder if he has been docked.
I leave gratefully, cleaner outside, noting again that I now go, like my parents, like clockwork, even if I won’t be confirmed.