more or less
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I don’t have the childhood I’ve lived
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I have 1,900 school bus tickets in a battered cheap bowler hat.
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I don’t have those lovers I’ve touched
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I have a winenight list of 12 names on the torn half of a franked buff envelope.
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I don’t have the beauty I blazed
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I have 4,000 silent shiny stills of fabricated moments curling up in cupboards.
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I don’t have the knowledge I’ve crammed
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I have 8 metres of bookshelf hung with melding clouds of moods and seeping plots.
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I don’t have the parents who formed me
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I have a clutch of small people who may, one day, tell me. |
Jenni Brooks
