DMV

 What was the exact day

when I changed

from the kid running around the DMV,

screaming and playing

with action figures on the coffee stained

and musty, crusty carpet,

to the curmudgeon scowling from behind

a boring, pretentious novel?

 

Certainly, the precise moment

must be able to be pinned down

when my revelry at the simple whimpered away,

my fire for passion,

my irresistible urge to exist, died out

into the cold smoke of dull restrain.

 

When was it

that life stole my ability to live,

ripped the toys from my hand,

replaced them with bitter, brown clipboards?

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- April, 2019)

I'm not sure on the date of the first draft of this poem. The old notebook I wrote this in is currently in a different country. That being said, a lot of great things happened for me in 2019. I ran my second marathon. I found work in Ecuador. I got my permanent residency visa. I finished writing my first novel, which is still exciting despite the fact that nobody wanted to publish it. And, oh, I got married to the love of my life! That being said, 2019 was a bit of a poetry rut for me. I had so many things going on that I never really got into a routine with poetry. (My prose on the other hand was going really well). This is one of the few decent poems from that time. The meaning should be pretty obvious. This poem is solid, but there's nothing here in terms of sound or imagery to take this to the next level.