Cauliflower

Wundertuten (you again)

The juicy intrigue which once squirted out
of the Edwardian Period squirts no more.
It’s finally squirtless.
Similarly sour:
The Industrial Revolution.
The Jacobean Era.
The Dark Ages.
And more.
All collectively curdled.
Ordinarily, this would honk historians into action,
but it seems they’re all too preoccupied with
a new field of study.
You.
The historical facts of your life so far.
They’ve unearthed all sorts.
The major events.
The significant arguments.
The turning points.
The monumentally preposterous fuck ups.
And more.
Things like how many tears you’ve cried.
Where all of those tears are now.
How many Jacuzzi’s they’d fill.
Why you cried every time you cried.
How long you cried for on each occasion.
Who made you feel better afterwards.
What they said and how they said it.
Thousands of verifiable facts about your streaming eyes.
The history of your wet cheeks,
your dripping chin.
And not just the seemingly endless blubbing.
How many times you’ve smiled at each individual person.
How many times you’ve been smiled at.
Who’s smiled at you more than anyone else.
Why they smile at you so much.
Who’s feelings you’ve hurt the most.
*Note to printer: The text fades out from the next line.
How many times you’ve said, “yes,”
how many times you’ve said, “no.”
What made you laugh for the longest amount of time.
How long that was.
How many photos have been taken
with you accidentally in the background.
Where those photos all are.
*Extremely faint.
How many things you’ve eaten which
you’ve dropped on the floor.
The compliments strangers have whispered about you.
*Text disappeared now.
The exact amount of money you’ve wasted.
The people who love you without you knowing.
The most intelligent thing you’ve ever said.
How many times you’ve sneezed without covering your mouth.
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Michael Crowse, http://figcrumbs.blogspot.com/