Dust

i found you at the bottom of my trunk

in my attic.

amongst cobwebby photos and books turning to dust.

you were sitting pretty just like i had left you.

you smelled like you were the dust of the universe.

whenever i open that trunk,

my heart aches and i see the world through the fisheye lens of teary eyes.

that trunk is the doorway to my lost youth.

to my lost innocence.

to my lost trust in myself.

to my lost belief in love and all things wondrous.

in that trunk is my favorite comic, my favorite cassette,

and my pure heart that loved everything with childlike passion.

when i got excited, tantalized, jumped about 

and ran short distances to quickly meet friends and catch buses.

i now have you in my palm.

i now have you in my heart.

now i am born young again.

now i style my hair again.

now i walk jauntily again.

now i look at myself in the mirror again...and again.

you are the opposite of Kryptonite.

you are the opposite of Delilah's lock cutting scissors.

you are the secret dust of the universe.

tonight i will sprinkle some of it on myself...

and wake up to be the snorting centaur

to run amok and create hysteria

amidst the ruins of my middle aged life.