Clad in indigo
Clad in indigo, the past’s presence holds firm to the railing,
a reminiscent grandmother picks us up and turns the pages of childhood stories:
of glee, shame, and the meaning of family.
Ahead, skipping up steps, facing forward, off the page,
we follow a little girl, rekindling youth, dressed in red,
she grips our hand and pulls us into the surest unsure we’ve ever known,
always two steps before us, exploring–
Go fish. I don’t have the cards you’re looking for
Don’t tell them who I am:
preconceived ideas–damn it!
I had to deal with those when I got called–oh, so long ago.
You thought I was going to make things better:
give you a mansion by the seaside?
All my talk of mansions isn’t here, you know,
to keep you warm and cozy by the fireside.
Go and save the world, and oh, and by the way,
break your grandmother’s heart
she’ll only see you every 2 years.