I got my drivers license!!!!

Now, excitement lies an easy walk from boredom.
The second school ends, I reach for the keys,
like a seedling stalk turns to the sun.
I’m soaking in this new freedom with litmus thirst.

What a spell - “combine gravel and motors for miracles,”
I say, in my best crackly witch’s voice.

True, my mom keeps turning the music down,
someone has to chaperone - at first
- aren’t old people supposed to be hard of hearing?

I'm anfractuous in my approach to driving.
“What are you laughing at,” My mom asks.
“Nothing.” I answer, confused.
Was I laughing??

What I love about Star Trek isn’t the plots or even the characters. It’s their casual, daily use of fantastic technologies (think replicators) - for them, the ordinary. It mirrors our own banal use of magic-like wireless, google searches and air travel.
We are marvelous monkeys.

I’m a teenager. I am new and agog - Jesus, I have a lot to learn. How are the many marvels that elevate our lives actually made? The millions of cars, the fuel distribution systems, our skyscrapers. Who thought of all this?
We’re marvelous monkeys.

We can almost cheat death - I saw Marilyn Monroe on TV last night.
It wasn't the real star - just the image of her purring sexuality. The her without the messy adopted-child neuroses, chemical dependencies, loneliness and deeper longings. But it's early days - her DNA is lying around here somewhere.
We’re marvelous monkeys.

In virtual school you
see the teacher in one screen
- students in others.

My desk has four screens
two for class, one for browsing,
one for Face-Time.

Record yourself, loop
it as background, and it looks
like you’re engaged.  =]

Teacher: “Come ON, guys
you got this last year!” - and I
can't recall breakfast.

I'm NOT a nerd, I
just don't want to be working
with you at McDonalds.

I see you in dreams,
those inconsequential things,
shaped in busy slumber.

I call to you - with
continual mutterings
- but do you listen?

Mad kings are sly devils,
and like math homework,
they’re hard to get rid of.

Like ex-boyfriends they
waltz the line of patience
with dawdling acknowledgements
and sluggish departures.

You find yourself the airline
agent, “Sorry sir, your departure
is booked and ticket printed -
please proceed to the gate."

Senryus about my
favorite - my one and
only - mom (so far).

"Mom!, I understand!!"
5 minutes later - wait, what did
she want me to do?

Eating my breakfast
cereal, “Mom!, let’s go to the
lake!,” Mom says, “Can’t.”

“I can’t wait to be
a lifeless professional,”
I say to my bowl.

Mini-heart attack:
Your mom says: "OK, I need to
ask you a question."

Smiling at old folks
to reassure them you're
not a teenage ****.

Even though I'm in
my school uniform and look
like Mary Poppins.

I don't like talking
in front of a group of teens
- they're so judgmental.