2014 -- 7.1 (Fall) Poetry

You are the Fond Memory of Happiness

By: Bluefin Jones


You are the fond memory of happiness, and the forced laughter in a crowd.
You are the hew of a bitten apple, and the breathing earthworms after rain.
You are the freshly crumpled paper, and the wet peels from a potato just washed.


But, please consider that you are not the crisp morning air during sunrise, the soft droplets of dew on a tiny sapling, or a finished mahogany china cabinet.
And your voice is not the sweet chirping of baby birds… your voice can never amount to the sweet chirping of baby birds.


However, it is quite likely that you are the puddle of water on a newly paved road, or the worn treading from a tire, but you will never become the sunset behind a cascade of purple and orange clouds.


And asking a few honest friends will prove that you are not the open book gently resting on a pillow, nor are you the soft flesh of a newborn.


In your wisdom, I’m sure you have a great collection of experiences to recall from… that I am the moment before a car accident. I am also a flickering light in the kitchen, your gas tank almost on E, and the plate of brownies at the gym during cardio;


but please don’t panic for I am not the fond memory of happiness.
You are the fond memory of happiness.
You are nothing but the fond memory of happiness,
and the freshly crumpled paper.


BIO: In a time different from this, on a distant sea, Bluefin Jones, while riding his domesticated Dinoshark, spoke to another man simply named Redwing Smith, who was held by the claw-hooves of a giant flying Pot-bellied pig, about the quality of peanut butter in this timeline’s supermarkets. Bluefin chose the leading market brand name while Redwing chose the generic brand, and promptly so, they entered an epic battle of wits, loud noises, scoffing, and theories of the sandwich crafting. They went their separate ways and never spoke again, but Bluefin still thinks about that fateful encounter and adjusts his sleeping schedule for 20-minute crying fits of frustration. Bluefin Jones seeks an outlet from the separation and found that his creative outlet is best expressed through the written word.