Skip the Middle

I want to be six years old again
and not know about government mind control
or why Madonna is not a good role model.
I want to remember when fun meant
getting up at dawn to go to the county fair
and staying in the bouncy house until
we got kicked out and eating
ketchup-soaked hotdogs
until we begged our moms
to take us home so we wouln't
have to use the Little Johns;
when school food used to be good too:
apple juice and animal crackers,
followed by what passed for nap time,
but was actually a room full of sweaty kids
tugging at each other's blankets.

I want to be ninety and senile
and pretend I don't notice the warm,
putrid puddle in my plastic-draped sofa.
I want to complain about the government's
involvement in my life and its lack
of involvement in giving me money
and remember the good old days
when I idolized a girl in a cone bra,
when I denied any responsibility
and when fun meant sleeping until
noon, one precious day a week.