How did I Never Notice the Garden
Had we spent more this year on the garden?
If not this year, in the last few, since I’ve been away.
Since I’ve been in Boston or since I was young and spent time back here. Since the picnic with Lola. Did this garden grow in magnificence or did I never seem to notice it?
The beauty. It’s a dangerous Midwest paradise.
This type of paradise doesn’t really exist-
since paradise is a word with an exotic tone to it.
And I can think of no place less exoticized than the Middle of America.
Plain like a white woman.
Where did that picnic basket go, I wanted to use it three days ago for Cy’s 23rd birthday.
Where was I?
Perhaps the same place that kept me from witnessing this garden was the same place I go to constantly in those present day time lapses.
What I mean is the trauma. What I am saying is the ice rink.
An ode to a lost childhood. An ode to a lifetime of unlearning.