Pre-school Film Noir
The shadows from your alphabet blocks
form a cityscape as small as your hands,
a place built by many unwashed fingers,
like the begrimed streets of story time.
And your mom is an italicized femme fatale,
modeling all the girls who will break your heart.
She’ll carry you into the scripted future,
one built wholly within her mouth,
One as unclear as a cigarette’s breath --
also forbidden to you, like the truth.
For all philosophy’s hidden under a rock
in the seedy part of the day’s care.
Instead, others will try to get you to see
the world only in black and white.
So you hit the juice with prying eyes
that ought to watch themselves.
Because addiction is the cornerstone of life,
even and especially if it’s a mother’s hug.
About the Author: Michael T. Smith is an Associate Professor of English who teaches both writing and film courses. He has published roughly 300 pieces (poetry and prose) in over 100 different journals.
Image Credit: Angelo Rizzuto “Boy in a Toy Car” Public Domain image courtesy of The Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 