This gum I’ve been chewing feels like it doesn’t want to be chewed anymore. But maybe the life of a gum starts at the point where it becomes like a textured drip of soup. And it’s already age four by the time I swallow.
And if I ping-yow it into a garbage, it boosts to 14. And if I hold my hair back and point my face towards a garbage can, get gum at the front of my mouth and open it, the age minus’s with each second of plummet.
And if the can has grown little garbage, the gum goes further,
the gum gets younger and when it reaches the point of stop, it cries like a newborn, or it drools saliva like a 17 month.Maybe it is at the age where Pokemon is best or drool is best and that is at whatever age best decides to be best at.
If overflowing from can, are tendrils of garbage, the gum makes contact sooner and is older and understands after the plummet,
that experience is the stuff that sticks.
And when gum hits the pavement,
if my aim is off-or on-by a centimetre;
if gum hits pebbled lane way,
it is okay.
Because no matter how many seconds that make it younger, or the lack of seconds that make it older,
experience still happens- even if it is not understood.
We do after all, tend not to understand why we were the one to step on the gum.
Gum may not understand either.
But shoes in motion mean a hundred different places, a hundred different experiences,where a hundred different things, can be learned.
But that’s just gum,
sticking to the facts.