I wanna be cool til I die.Cool with everything.Cool with my neighbors.
Cool with my mail carrier,my Uber drivers.I wanna be cool
with theearth and sky,with the wind.With all the trees that I wish
I knew the name of.With the bone-colored moon.I wanna be cool
with the man bagging my grocerieseven if he does it poorly and crushes
my bread.I wanna be cool with someone famous.I wanna be cool
with quantum physicswhich have so far made the best argument
for just how ridiculouseverything is.I wanna be cool
with every dog I see,every turtle,every snake, every naked mole rat.
With all the lost socks and the ghosts of my regrets.I wanna be cool
with the sharp edgesof dangerous things but I don’t
want to have to maketheir acquaintance, first.I wanna be cool
with the starsthat salt the night sky.Of course some things
don’t wanna be cool with me.Time, for example.I wanna be cool
with time but everyone knowstime is only cool with the future
and I am always inthe past.Look,I wanna be so cool
it hurts.I wanna be cooltil it doesn’thurt anymore.
About the Author
Tyrel Kessinger is a “writer” and a stay-at-home dad of two wild animal-like things. Some of his work can be found at tyrelkessinger.wordpress.com. He can also be found tweeting a lot of non-viral tweets @KessingerTyrel.