Had I the chance to sit silently alone in this no-longer new auditorium, might I have heard the echo of your voice? The music you conducted? My younger hands applauding?
It seemed so.
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Being back in the PSHS auditorium this week for the first time since the mid-1970’s seemed a bit surreal. Pride welled in me as they honored Dad, and a very large part of me would have given anything to return to that time in my life. Not permanently, but for another round. Or two.
If the whole world was silly, you know what I’d eat?
Worm Fettuccini, right off of the street.
Some caramelized whiskers of catfish today;
Tomorrow, perhaps a nice leather fillet.
A handful of gravel from Mr. Green’s drive,
With honey bee’s knees from an elephant’s hive.
Gallons of hazelnut-chocolate-bean chili.
That’s what I’d eat if the whole world was silly.
If the whole world was silly, you know what I’d wear?
An upside-down tuba, and one for a spare.
A glove on my foot, and two socks on one hand,
Yesterday’s junk mail; fresh peach skin (or canned).
My big sister’s homework, my Uncle Jim’s lures,
And maybe that G.I. Joe lunch pail of yours.
Oversized dentures from Great, Great Aunt Milly.
That’s what I’d wear if the whole world was silly.
If the whole world was silly, you know what I’d do?
I’d unzip the sky to let hippos skip through.
I’d hop into books, and I’d flip through my bed.
I’d butter my face, and smooth lip balm on bread.
I’d plant fish from seed, and teach star fruit to swim.
Then I’d color each glare with a nice shade of dim.
Everyone’s name would end with “The Frilly,”
If I was the queen, and the whole world was silly.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2009
Inspired by “If the World was Crazy” by Shel Silverstein
pictured words 