“Micah’s how old? …He can’t be that old.”
isn’t a statement about
a shift in age,
but rather
a shift in perspective.
For the speaker in question
remains the same age:
“Theirs”
and assumes that others will
remain
the same age:
the age that others
maintained
in relation to
“Theirs.”
How
ever
Like the half-plus-seven rule
for those dating others
younger
where a
22-year-old
may date
an 18-year-old
but never
a 17-year-old
where a
30-year-old
may date
a 22-year-old
but never
a 21-year-old
where a
67-year-old
may date
a 41 ½-year-old
but never
a 39 ½-year-old
Half-plus-seven
shows
the relative distance
in age
based on
event horizons
in the
aged.
And so
it’s not that we don’t know
what a seventeen-year-old
looks like
when we say
“Micah’s seventeen now? He can’t be that old…”
it’s that we remember all too well
in our bones,
that our bones
retain sentience
and remember
growth spurts,
even those that don’t
involve elongation
of said bones
remember they
that we’ve remained
our age
but their age
somehow
changed
every time
our Birthday events
reach
horizon.
And so,
like King Solomon,
Age before beauty,
baby.
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For newcomers — a note on 50 @ 25:
Once upon a time, I read that the perfect age for writing quality poetry is twenty-three. Apparently most of T.S. Elliot’s stuff came out then, the rest of his work being supposedly non-poetic. This resulted in 46 poems written at 23.
These poems came out exponentially faster and faster before my 24th birthday on April 30th – and I had to write in genres spanning from epic ballads to limericks to get 46 in on time. I guess that means, for better or worse, that’s the best poetry I’ll ever write. Sad day.
Who was I kidding?
Milton was blind and old—oooooold—when he publishedParadise Regained. Emily Dickenson was dead when her stuff came out. My favorite stuff from T.S. Elliot came out after his conversion. So yeah, old age is good for poetry too. Look at Burns and Berry.
(Side note: the name “Berry Burns” sounds like a shady car salesman).
Will I keep up this twice-my-age regimen every few years? Who knows, but this year, here’s to 50 poems at 25 to be written exponentially faster until I turn 26 on April Thirtyish. I do it this the second time around as a way to say: “Here’s to living life well before it’s too late.”
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