Finally, you’ve found me.
No, sorry: I don’t have all the answers.
The ones I do – hoverboards don’t exist.
Yes, you grow even taller. You become
taller than even Father. No, I’m still single.
Yes, you get to buy Power Rangers CDs.
Yes, there’s still Pokémon, and yes,
Ash still hasn’t won the league. I know.
You kept asking me then, with your 20/20
innocence. I obliged – but there are
answers to questions you haven’t asked.
I hold these in the purse of my lips.

For instance:

The secret to success is bitcoin,
but I know you haven’t learnt to add yet.
Truth be told, neither have I.
So you will have to work it out.
You will end up moving 3 times
but forever stay in the North,
your world revolving around the same scenes.
You never learnt to say I love you
enough, the great irony of your namesake
so you keep its reverb in your mouth
until your tongue learns its shape.
No, he doesn’t survive to see your marriage.
Your first and last
suicide attempt happens in 2012,
but you feared dying so you slit your ankle instead.
The scar, shaped like a crescent moon.
And how your future
is so, so bright
in spite of the sum
total of your mistakes.

But I know you haven’t learnt to add.
There’s so much I want to do
but I know every act I take
warps the world ever slightly,
every word a wand,
every line a sentence,
every act an equation.
So, I write this, hide this in your
safest space, between your
childhood’s diary and
the last photo album in history:

to the me of 1999,
rush on, headstrong.
Hurt yourself a few times. Let pain
flower the fruits of love. Taste it.
Let it nourish you, evolve, grow –
multiply. I’ll be waiting for you, you know.
—

spwm day 5