Boo boos teach us. A
young cat who singes his little paw on a hot stove top will think
before venturing ever again near that inviting surface with all the
yummy smells.
She swept me away.
That little red headed girl. Got me hormones pumping when she fell
asleep on my shoulder just past high school. One time out to hockey
game and then she said “No.” Took three months to dissipate
those imperishable wonders of disconsonant avidity, mind numbly
unaware in fields of sweet grasses and butterflies, the feel of that
soft hair. I wish you the best, little red headed girl.
Little paws heal,
adolescent hearts endure. Boo boos create the charm in mahogany.
Then there are calamities.
That warmhearted pouch
who just wished to greet a solitary bicycle pedlar on a sunny stretch
of highway past family farms and holdings where all the good things
in life are encompassed. Got nailed by a car from the other way in
his enthusiasm, never to move again.
We ask, do boo boos
have a degree to their catastrophe? Some boo boos end up in wheel
chairs and some end in coffins. Is death our last boo boo? Life
does go on for the rest of us, for now anyhow. Meanwhile we suffer
on, life would be so so bland. The charm in the mahogany. We
dream.
Best to keep a gentle
spirit, just in case. This holographic universe, the greatest boo
boo ever. He was full of love, that warmhearted pouch. Time may be
but the convenience of our consciousness in our multilayered
universe. His warmheartedness may remain forever in the realms
beyond time. We just don't know, this boo boo in our cognizance.
Sweep me away forever
more, my little red headed girl. My holographic fantasy. My boo
boo. I dream of you in the dentist chair. Ouch
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