seagulls'

"think about scandal. think about a mother's love." the time when his father passed out on the couch, unknowingly locking us out of the house until his mother came home, spent from an unsupportive job, hours after the neighborhood went to sleep, and took what might be considered illegal to some people. "shit happens" says the tacked up calender hanging inside the glass of a hollow garage. "think about a tree house. a tea party. a fort." i never had the privilege of a tree house. i feel like somehow, maybe, i missed out on a crucial part of childhood. like not reading "where the wild things are" or playing tee-ball. what kind of person would that have made me? "think about a death. a tear." is it possible to have one without the other? i can't. i'm emotional. i'm concerning. concerned with the what/who/why. what kind of person does that make you? to have one without the other. "and what the aurora looks like in the arctic." it shifts, like a tumbling rock, or a withering tree, from one life to another. i imagine it to look like heaven on psychedelics, if such a thing exists.