The Little Things

There sleeps inside me an understanding that it’s the little things in life that I adore.

It’s divine, discovering the petite. Noticing neglected preoccupations.

Things worth noting, worth celebrating.

Miniaturization, I’ve come to know as a comrade. A place for shelter.

Like why the name of the Sequoia Tree entices me infinitely, though I’ve never sat under one, and written a poem.

How people spend entire weekends dancing, while the political world decays and mounts.

Why have I always viewed Route 66 as the world’s highway, Paris as personified by the smell of Le Petit Marseillais Lait soap?

How we are involuntarily inside the seasons. Would you request winter if you could?

Why people pop back into your life, when you need them least?

How Lana Del Rey blinks fast when she sings a tough note.

My mother’s pancakes, a place to seek refuge; my father’s fragrance is memory.

The name O’Byrne, sounds like a person begging to be saved.

How hurtful, the prestige way a woman may flick her hair dismissing you.

Why do our hearts feel stuck in our throats when sad? A warning perhaps, that it needs to escape.

How rude the sun can be, burning us in a season of healing.

Are things really on fire, or is fire on them?

It’s possible for the eyes to die.

How I sometimes imagine if we had to carry all our worldly belongings on our heads.

Do deserts have seeds?

How sitting in an aeroplane’s window seat, reminds you of God instantly.

I’d rather think than talk, if given an ultimatum.

How people recall memories from the 80’s, and it makes me wonder what they were wearing in that moment, how big were their glasses?

The elegance of beauty spots. The attitude of whom they choose.

How I wonder what a naked brain feels like, its temperature.

That frightening moment of despair and glee, when you’re right about something you didn’t want to live through.

How the smartest people in the world, tend to have no rims on their reading glasses.

Impatience can be captured in a photograph. Simply look back at yourself as a child.

How it’s possible to multitask, even if you deny that you can, while you refute and persuade, at the same time.

‘Carpe Diem’, and how I only associate it with Tia and Tamera Mowry.

How bananas look like they’ve been sent to bed.

The colour jade isn’t blue, and isn’t green. Is it black, fermented?

How air can bruise your heart, if words still linger there.

Eating a tangerine can sometimes make your veins go sour.

How we forget that the rocks below us have travelled such a very long way. If we dig them up, it’s the first time they are seeing sunlight.

Books can hold a person’s desires, the entire world squished in a spine.

How many bugs we have killed in our lifetime intentionally?

My memories of New York City, are bullied by the boat trip to Ellis Island.

How in some countries, depression is renamed laziness.

It’s possible to live in a person’s laugh.

How a smell can transport memories, rushing at your ears.

The colours, green and purple can make me smile, if in the right shade of regal.

How people forced to grow up quickly have always been adults, out of focus.

 

 

 

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