This is a list poem. Some of you might have to Google the pop cultural references.
—By Susan Walsh
I know the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, sometimes in the same day
I know the Wide World of Sports, Dick Van Dyke, Beverly Hillbillies—
the world I grew up in is nothing but a pop cultural curiosity
even to me.
I know sleep is overrated. Food is not.
I know machines should not autocorrect humans—especially when they somehow confuse rollerskating with Amsterdam.
I know I couldn’t solve an algebraic equation to save my life and that would be a stupid reason to die.
I know I had a misspent youth. And I wish I regretted it.
I know how it feels to put the last $5.00 I have to my name into gas for the car.
And I’m glad I know.
I know what the stars look like 100 miles from city lights and the city lights don’t hold a candle.
I know South Beach is everything they say it is, Hollywood is seedy, Santa Monica has been invaded by armies of homeless but still has great restaurants,
and LA is a fake world built on a fault.
And all of it is temporary.
I know what I don’t want to be when I grow up and what I do want to be—and so far I’m doing both.
I know animals have emotions and are more honest than humans.
I know Lucinda Baker has a centipede in her laundry room, Evelyn Allen had sushi for lunch
and my daughter was at a nightclub in downtown Pontiac—not at her friend’s house like she said.
I know there are as many realities as there are people.
I know how hard my husband works every day to stay alive and I appreciate the effort.
I know I am the weed that grows between the cracks in the concrete, hanging on no matter what.
(C) Susan Walsh 2013