life concrete

Photo by Sam J on Pexels

they look at you like you should be done 
making mistakes by now, 
like thirty years is enough time 
for everything to settle in — 
to settle down, 
that a life must at some point 
become concrete…
but look close and see the cracks 
and spaces, feel the openings 
and know that I am incomplete 
I cannot read minds 
I cannot fly 
and I cannot slow down time 
I don’t have the embers 
to keep your fire going 
I don’t own a bullet-proof vest 
and my greatest riches 
are untrue words 
written on ice 
waiting for the sun to shine on them… 
that’s why I hide it all in the dark, 
so that it all stays frozen there, 
cold and living, 
escaping the rotting glow of natural light 
and yeah, maybe we’ll do more 
than this little dance of barely 
touching hands — 
of needing some pretense 
to actually reach out… 
maybe soon we can just be direct 
and tell one another how we feel, 
communicate how much we care, 
reveal how deeply we understand 
what each one of us is missing 
and show how difficult it is to walk 
for this long and continue to 
trip and fall on our asses every time, 
all along the dreaded way

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Garbage Notes:

I feel like when you’re a person who’s into creative things, you also have to view yourself as a thing that is constantly being created and destroyed.

The deeper you get into adulthood, the more you’re confronted with the attitude that you’re supposed to be someone or somewhere or something—that you are on some kind of timetable and if you haven’t rounded out into a mature thing, then there’s something wrong with you.

Well, maybe there is. I’ll admit to there being many things that are wrong with me. But I guarantee you those people who are telling you to grow up or to be somebody—those very same people who seem like they’ve got everything together—also have many things wrong with them too.

Maybe those things aren’t visible. And maybe those people don’t talk about their fucked-up-ness. But we all have things we can work on. Or things we can improve about ourselves.

A healthy attitude regarding life should be one of constant process and progress—in all different areas and directions. Human beings were meant to keep learning well beyond the age of, oh, I don’t know, twenty-five…

But somehow people think once you’re out of college and it’s time to get a job and start finding your mate and producing more human beings, that you need to be fully-formed.

No, you’re not done. That’s the wrong way to think about it. What lessons are we even sharing with our kids if we say that children are the only people on this planet with growth ahead of them?

In this poem, I’m wrestling with the parts of me that want to be acknowledged and respected for being “mature” and “adult”. But at the same time, I want my childlike wonder and curiosity to be appreciated. I want to be loved for my talent for storytelling and my ability to document the nature of my humanity in words

This is a world where your light will be constantly stifled. Your gifts will be continually met with challenge and criticism and grief. You will be told you suck. You will be told you’re not good enough. But in that regard, we are all alike. We all face the same harsh bullshit. But it’s a choice of ours as to whether we participate in that negativity ourselves.

Instead of dancing around each other. Instead of acting like we’re fine when we’re not. Instead of bullshitting our way through the real stuff, the emotions, the damage, or trying to cover the softness of our flesh. We should look for the darkness in each other’s eyes. Mirror it with our own gaze. Maybe try to heal it. Try to see that we are all imperfect, flawed, and still forming. No matter how old you are.

We don’t have to be that stiff slab of concrete. And we also don’t have to leave one another out there to dry. Touch hands, communicate, and show that you care.

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Franco Amati 2024

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