Playhouse Disney

Photo by Kleigh Balugo

By Sinclair Adams

In the mid 2000s
When I was 6
I’d wake up at 7
And tap mom’s arm to wake her up
I’d ask her if I can go watch TV in the living room

The squat gray cube would light
Bleeding bright blues and greens and reds
Friendly faces greeting me goodmorning
While dad gets up and starts making pancakes
Before going outside to play in the sun that
was never really too hot
And the TV would sing sweet goodbyes
So long, fare well, to you, my friends

But I’m not a kid anymore
And the oceans are dying
And it’s not even my fault
And my colleagues are swearing off children like drunk driving
And but also there’s underpopulation I think?
And the earth is burning
And the plastic playgrounds are melting
And cows are farting into the methane sky
And I’m not a kid anymore

And that’s okay
I sleep on a bed of nails
and smile
Because the nails don’t hurt you when they’re all stacked together, they
hold you up

Someday I want to wake up
Our kids poking me in the arm
Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be flipping pancakes
Chocolate chip and whipped cream
Like my dad always made on Saturdays
Because I’m not a kid anymore
And I’ll never be a kid again
And it’s someone else’s turn.


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