Poetry by Tony Longshanks le Tigre

Back in the days of dinosaurs,

It was She, my mother, who gave me the keys to Imaginationland,
With all those fabulous art museums

She took me to, in Minneapolis—

Before the great change,
When terror & responsibility rained down from the skies,
Putting an end to my perfect playground:
The sudden drastic destruction of all but fossils
Preserved in the amber of a solipsatisfactory childhood.

How vividly I recall the eerie lighting;

The multiple levels & lack of clocks;
The videos & dioramas & unique-smelling plastic gift shop figurines

(Which we could always afford, when I wanted them badly enough);

The long Jurassic curve of the thunder lizard’s neck;
A pterodactyl swooping so low its wings tousled my snow-white locks;

A glitter-eyed saber-toothed tiger, trapped in the tar pit of its demise;

All those taxidermied stranger-than-fiction fragments of Mesozoic reality;

And how I wanted to never, ever leave.

—Tony Longshanks LeTigre +11+

We swim in oceans of information
And try not to drown
But would drowning not be preferable to beaching ourselves
Like a moribund whale?