Sick Trainset Glorious Monday
Scared how new things
have to get old
battered and scratched.
Sunglasses, friendships
won’t come clean
like a beach
tide-smoothed to a slate
to be scribbled with a new day’s stick
fresh printed with a foot.
Sweating that first scrape
to a shiny new car
to a virgin face …
can’t take the suspense.
Please, I beg these glinting things
nick yourself now
get it over with quick.
I like old stuff too – slanting barns
rusted machines, gnarled trees
ramshackle friends.
It’s just the transition makes me tense.
From sticky-born lamb
to styrofoam chop
a mild pregnant agony
an ectopic anxiety
waiting for decay
to get underway.
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