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4. Little Jonny Meets the Queen of Snow

Played over and over
you hear the single line
from the single song:

"I have become comfortably numb."

Any statement, taken far enough out of context,
seems stupid. Never, however,
was there a sentence more easily corrupted—
—it quickly becomes an anthem of self-denial,
a level of self-ignorance to make Oedipus a hero.

This is what I once meant by aging.
Sliding into a state of denial
more severe than any apathy.
I see adults
plugging their ears,
donning their armor,
singing at the top of their lungs,
doing anything to prevent
intrusion
upon their comfortable numbness.

How can anyone tolerate that?

Some artists retreat to Buddhist temples
and become preachier with age
edging suspiciously close
to voluntary senility.

Others remain wild and vital,
ignoring their bills,
damning the straight world,
and going to their graves
as childish as teens.

Neither of these options seems particularly appealing.

Is there no middle ground that would denote
maturity?
Can we only choose to go mad
or become increasingly silly?

For I would not be adverse
to plugging my ears
and burying myself in the sand
if it were not for the fact
that there is so much,
so much,
to hear.

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