ode to a smoke stack bunny

I remember when I was young I used to pick out shapes & animals in the smoke stack clouds. The days were warm back then, and warming all the time. The large swathe of green that I was lucky to call my lawn. Green as far as the eye could see. Nothing but.

I miss my car. I miss the sound it made of the old engine kicking up life, the slow billow of its lungs exhaling. I miss the feeling of the AC blasting on a hot day like Sirocco, or being able to put my hand out of my window. I remember my music shaking the car. When stopped at a light idling, the sampler of everyone else’s radio and quick judgements. I miss going places in my own space, something that I could call mine and dirty it to my liking. The plight of searching & searching for a space in a crowded car park. It’s natural and intrinsic, that sweet cathartic release of finding a spot that’s close enough that I don’t have to walk far. John Cabot Thrill. 

I miss flying places. That feeling you’d get in your stomach with utter excitement. Anxious. People don’t understand the preparation we went through to fly. Arriving there hours beforehand to go through security and how the beer there just tasted better. Just getting to a place magically, no strings attached. How good that free food tasted. That drink! 

I miss the large stores where I could go and stock up. I’d only have to go once a month and put everything in my car. The stores were so big and had everything I could need, and everything I ever wanted could be ordered to my house at my expense of solely myself. The convenience that you don’t get these days. There was so much food, so much delicious food. I remember having steak and potatoes and sausages and meatloaf and oh my, the food! Now I swear I’m growing breasts with a lack of testosterone. When is there to be a restaurant that serves real food again? In proper portions! Compost it all for I care, just feed me enough; God knows I have enough scraps and mouldy things at home to raise a garden. 

It’s these kids these days. I see them everywhere. Biking and loitering at parks and fields, on patios and cafes. When I was a kid, I was to behave. I went places with my parents and behaved! Not dangerously mucking about on my own. I believe they genuinely think they’re adults now, or close to it. This false sense of independence bolstering them. God, help me. And it’s not their fault, it’s the schools. The schools where they congregate & brainwashed from a young age. They care more about their carbon footprint than if they’re hygienic. They care more about how their clothes are made than how they look. They’re vulgar, ill-fitting things that muck about. They blocked the street the other day with some placards and klaxons. I fear for our future. How could they understand, when they don't think for themselves? They’re told these buzzwords and act on them. 

I miss the days of old. I’ve lost my steam.