When your mother said
that your face
was the same colour
as your hot pink pants
you cried even louder
I said that you understood perfectly
that you had been here before
we all looked
at each other knowingly
& your mother
auntie
& me
agreed that it was so
grandma was busy with you
so she wasn't listening to all of that
but when she sat down she said
that you had had a big talk to her
minutes after you were born
moving your mouth expressively
looking around the delivery room
telling her that getting here
had been very hard work
& you were glad to have
grandma there to share
that important information
buried potential
like a sword in a walking stick
hidden frustrations
congealed fear
so in the meantime
what to do
but jump on allusions
play neat games
& put some perspective
on to things without answers
spend a little time
taking lines for a walk into oblivion
where memories of pain
are beyond grimace
lost in glee or ecstasy
& unrestrained revelry
join in the exquisite fun
of foam fights
mud throwing
participating in wild pillow fights
where the struggle is as much
to hold up your pajamas
as it is to keep swinging
until all the bubbles have burst
feathers & fluff falling down
& the cloud is there again
who knows if we return
as cockroaches
or dogs
or not
or if the power elite
will end up putting the lights out
altogether
or if a massive stellar event
or epidemic
will reduce our numbers to zero
maybe this whole system
will be sucked into a black hole
& all the dreams
& stuff we put faith in
will be burnt to a crisp
so what else to do but
trot out the black label
add a little milk
or water if you wish
do remember to allow time
to swirl the amber
& allow it to touch the sides
& remember to smile
recalling it all
just for now