DANGEROUS TOY

Sometimes, late at night, I reminisce

About the bad old, good old days.

When reality wasn’t very real,

And what I thought pleasure, stabbing pain,

Noise, and blood spurting all over, not just mine,

But of all in my orbit, of those whose tortured paths

Took them closest to me.

I call myself better, but still lose focus.

If I don’t guard my heart well. I forget.

Self-medication is too easy, even if self-talk

Says these are just memories,

And no one will get hurt in the remembering.

“You’ve come so far,” self tells self.

“A little downtime is always a good thing.”

In those days it was like playing with a toy

That was deadly dangerous, so I was told,

But I wouldn’t listen. I knew better, and saw

A beautiful toy, all shiny, colorful and smooth, humming,

A delight to the senses, spring loaded. I knew but ignored…

Touch the wrong surfaces in the wrong sequence:

Without warning, destruction comes,

Sharp double edged knives pop out,

Blades bite and scream, slashing, cutting,

The surface becomes stovetop hot,

And lights flash ceaselessly: the slam of steel hitting flesh…

I lay there weeping, wondering what happened.

It was just a toy after all, a simple boy’s toy.

Where did all this ruin come from?

Tonight I saw the toy again.

Forgetting scars and pain I looked at it.

The years had added patina, a layer dust-like,

That only seemed to enhance its beauty and desirability.

Recalling not my wounds, my pain, nor anyone else’s,

A gory mess left that still hasn’t been cleaned up.

Probably never will. Again I coveted the toy.

It couldn’t hurt me, I reasoned. The passing of time had

Weakened the batteries, said I. No danger left,

Just to look at it for a second, to forget what I remembered,

The unreality of the reality I didn’t want to own.

What harm could it be? I thought. These things

Are all past. “The past is gone”, I said, “Back then

You had such fun,” I remembered, forgetting.

So I reached, and before I could touch:

A light and a shrill whistle. Knives flicked out,

The battery, weakened by time, still lived enough to warn,

And stab. Had I been any more careless, had I not stopped

That micro-instant to think and consider the damage-

To look at the scars, to hurt again, I never again

Want to play-with my dangerous toy.

August 16, 2009