I just saw something square and white with a stripe of red, and I smelled something like bubblegum, and from there I left the scene. I remember something of my youth, something of little cars that move when you put a quarter in them, and you can sit in them while your mom waits for the ride to end. Something of sweet, sticky ice cream stores with fingerprinted brass handrails; something of petting zoos with friendly goats; something more of disco ball lights that dance around my skates while a man with a high voice sings in loops set over heavy steady bass booms. Of sweaty nights chasing each other and catching toads, of sand fights at the beach, of things we didn't understand but believed anyway.
But that's not what stings in my chest. I think those things were nice, but what pinches somewhere between my lungs is that it was a time of innocence. It was before any of us hurt each other or fell in love with each other. It was before our minds parted ways, a time when it was simply assumed that we were friends and would always be for the forseeable future. All that was before any of us did anything illegal or even wanted to, before we hid things from each other or had anything to hide. It was when we went to bed on time, watched cartoons on Saturday mornings, petted every dog we saw, and swam in a pool all day without half a thought as to what we looked like in a bathing suit.
Now I analyze everything, the country, the trends, everything and everyone I know. Now I have things to be ashamed of. I can no longer entertain myself all day at the beach with a bucket. I let people down now, and am let down. Nobody expected much of us back then.
Where have we gone?
