Spaceships, Ponies, and Nuggets

by Kambria Vance

When I was a kid I went into outer space searching for the Starship Enterprise
at least three times a week.
or when I wasn’t there I went to the Wild West shootin’ up trouble makers.
I went to a Jungle
and dropped chicken nuggets on my enemies
because that’s obviously how little girls kick ass.

And the magical portal to these imagination destinations?
The trampoline in my back yard.
And all there was
was me,
my intergalactic friends,
my diamond studded pistols,
and my chicken nuggets.

On that trampoline
I bounced higher than an alcoholic father whose
matriarch cried to and in her sleep.
I could shade myself with the black mesh fortress
protecting me from drug addict cousins and a suicidal grandmother

Now I have to find more practical means of coping with my inner monologue.
adulthood turned my spaceship into insomnia solitaire.
It turned my fire breathing steed into daily packs of smokes.
It turned swinging from vines into meaningless sex with people
who might not even like chicken nuggets.

Imagination games become expedient in hide and go seek
after the clock reaches the voting age.

Led by naivety I have become an expert in seeking.

I still have interspecies relationships,
I still ride a fire breathing pony,
And I still drop chicken nuggets on my enemies.