Seventeen by Jay Murray
A 7 year old boy looks up laughing.
His best friend beside him in a hoodie and jeans
He's so cool.
His name is James
He's already 13.
A chubby boy grows up to be a lanky pre-teen
He's now eleven y'know?
But he wants to be older still
He wishes he was a graffiti artist, and his name would be Jesse like the outlaw, and his surname would be Jameson meaning son of James, so he can be Jesse Jr. but 15 because that's a cooler age
And he'd smoke cigarettes too, because that's badass (that's a new word he's now allowed to say) it makes up his vocabulary along with more new slang of "awesome, sweet, and wicked)
So this name is what he fills in when permitted to make an email.
And he'd use Gmail, because that's new, his boomer MOM, the Americanisms are so much cooler BTW, still uses Hotmail)
He's fifteen now but he wants to be 17
Because he'd be allowed to drive a turquoise beat up F150 truck now
He'd be a high school bad boy jock like Danny from Grease. He'd be cool with spiked blond hair and Ray bans and a cross on his varsity jacket.
He's 16 and his ideal "cool factor" has shifted
He now wants to be 19, and an Australian surfer boy, with tanned skin and spending every day on Bondi Beach and drinking beer.
Seventeen used to seem such a romantic age to be.
He thought he'd be popular in school, but smart and cultured, and also athletic but football is overrated so he'd play baseball but just, not a nerd
Now he just wants to go to art college and follow his dreams, not wanting to be locked behind a desk until he's forty. Doodling on a notepad taking a business call because all he's ever wanted to do was draw. But he chose the safe option. He went to university not art school, taking business or physics or something equally as boring.
He wants to be let loose with a can of spray paint on his bedroom wall, but he's not eighteen yet.
When he's eighteen, he'll no longer be bound by Mama's rules
He can wear and do what he wants, he'll be an adult. No one allowed to tell him no.
But as he lays in bed, staring at his phone, he's got college tomorrow but it's already 2am so fuck it, writing this Prince EA type shit, he knows.
That he'll always be unsatisfied. But he feels guilty. Mama raised him to be respectful, and not counting his blessings and always chasing MORE MORE MORE, isn't very nice of him. It's greed. But no one is ever satisfied with what they've got, so he's not wrong if the majority agrees.
He wants to be 21, travelling to New York or California, and finally being able to drink legally.
He wants to be a husband, a father and uncle.
He'll name his son after his brothers and his daughter after his great grandmother and bang on about responsibility as his teens roll their eyes and go "ugh Dad" like his parents do to him now and he responds in kind.
He wants to have a stable career and own his house and he'll live in London or Brooklyn somewhere romantic and he'll finally get away from his dead end town.
Seventeen is not a romantic age anymore. The hype is misguided.
Because he wanted to be 17 instead of 14, smoking cigarettes although they made him feel sick when he was younger, now the drag and burn of smoke in his eyes and his throat greets him like an old friend, ticking away the lonely sleepless nights
Purring softly like the gears and wheels on his new racing bike
He's not romantic, he's tired.
Life moves too fast
Seventeen used to be such a romantic age to be
YOU ARE READING
sunflowers and steel chains
Poetry"He's sunflowers and steel chains New scars compensating for old pain The sun's shining but he's facing the other way He's quiet, he don't know what to say" warning: this book contains the unfiltered thoughts of a young man using words as his therap...
