I was finally becoming an adult, legally adult in a world ruled by them and I was excited and apprehensive at the same time. My parents, you see, had always been very protective of me, more so than of any of my friends and it, while it had been a comfort at certain times, it had also been a nuisance as, I suppose, it would be of anyone of that age with such parents. I loved them, of course, but I wanted to fly free, try my own wings and find myself, so to speak.
This wish comes to all those on the threshold of adulthood, or nearing it.
It is a fear, really. Every time we know change is coming, for better or worse, we begin to feel fear. In some, this becomes uncertainty, in others boasting and swaggering. For me, it was neither. Or both. I am not quite sure, but I was certainly looking forward to it.
I remember that week. I was trying to slip hints as to what I desired about my coming of age, about my birthday, as all children
Exhausts the spirit
The way tornadoes wear out the wind.
I fall to sleep and my thoughts
Are a bed of pebbles
Soaking up the rain of sentience.
We welter together
—My thoughts and me—
We slip away
With the lazy weather.
Then work comes
With grinding wheels
And coughing machines,
To fill dreamstreets with cold humidity,
With soot and oil and leathery boots.
Further down —far past
The industrial avenues—
The coffee vendors with their poppy bagels,
A crowd or two,
Seedy strangers with unmovable expressions,
And a few street girls hustling for sugar
—No doubt to fill their little cups.
A sun-colored cab down
To the docks
That face Hoboken.
My hand to write the river Hudson.
Ferb had gotten in pretty late the other night and he was pretty beat after his day with Emily. In fact, he had been so tired that when he went upstairs, He immediately crashed into bed, not wanting to even change into his pajamas. By now, he assumed Phineas would have been long asleep by now, so naturally he paid no attention to his side of the room.
So he was somewhat surprised when he woke up the next morning to find his brother fully away and scribbling away in his sketchpad. At first, the green-haired fifteen year old dismissed it as his one of his usual burst of ideas, until he noticed the piles and piles crumpled up pieces of paper littering his bed and floor as well as overflowing the wastebasket in the corner.
What had worried him though was the fact that there was a coffee maker next to his bed which seemed to pour out a cup every five minutes and would be brought to Phineas by their pet platypus.
"Morning, Ferb! Nice day, aint it?" He had
in the gro ves
oo of the chest
with abdomen defined
hungry mouths gut open ozma