My mindest

*This is one from the bunch of poems i wrote for my creative poetry writing class during my last spring quarter in Athens. Wow, that is weird to say. And fuck, do I miss that place like crazy! I went back there a couple weekends ago to camp and completely surprised Mattias. The entire town still felt like a home to me. So in commemoration of the first place i found and turned into a home, here is a vintage Schenk poem.*

Grown-ups Not Allowed

I live in a nameless town that only wandering

children could find, only they could imagine it.

I was born twenty-two years ago and

a number six candle will illuminate

my next fifty birthday cakes.

A town where excitement worked as oxygen,

inhaling as we marched, zigzagging

through the trees and jousting sticks

upward with the rhythm of our song.

We folded pirate hats out of newspaper

and a cardboard box morphed 

into a ship before our eyes.

This ship let us triumph over rotting cold

and we floated past growing old.

Adventure roared and soared until

the day we found contentment.

The jubilee filled us like hot air balloons 

taking us around the world.

We exhaled our way to the ground, 

resting our bones that traveled the earth

and our eyes that still magically sparked. 

The dimming of our fire was prevented 

by the skipping of adulthood,

the dullness of over investing responsibility.

Instead we grew from children to elders,

basking in a life well lived. 

Hopefully some of my old Athens friends will read and remember back to the magical place that we were a part of, created, and enjoyed. I fucking miss all of you a ton. And as I said to you many times before, so long.