Year of writing 290. Bubble bath

10/14/12

I can hear her from the kitchen
she's singing "Tomorrow" from
Annie, the musical.  Her notes
all at once flat and sharp, the
lyrics bent to fit a four year old
mind: "the sun will come out
tomorrow, put your bottom dollar
that tomorrow there will be sun."

She splashes in the tub purposefully,
explaining to herself, her mom,
and nobody in particular how those
words just stick in her head, how
the song just makes her sing even
when it's not on anywhere but her head.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I think it is
these moments, in the magical mundanity
that make our hearts lurch and sway
drunk with how alive we all are right
here and now, it is these moments
which make us the men we always
wanted to be, the paternal rush
in our veins becoming a song
all at once flat and sharp, even when
it's not on anywhere but our heads.