Erosion of the Meaning of Things

Chicken eggs, candy eggs, plastic eggs, paper eggs β€”
they are all good as long as they are colorful.
We daisychain memories of how to decorate eggs.
[Now] “There are shelves of kits in the stores! Its awful!
Most of them are probably poison anyway.”

[My kids’ childhood] “We used to have coloring parties … ”
“Dipping them in vinegar baths?” “Yes! Pills for dyes.”
[Her daughter] “We used egg cups. I have some beauties.”
“I never heard of that.” “I found a few last week.
I should give them to my daughter. Except, well, she,
she doesn’t use them anymore. She wouldn’t keep
them, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Mine’s like that, too. I’m sorry.”
“They’re collectible?” She looks a little bit down,
asks, “Why do people have to throw things out?” and frowns.



2 responses to “Erosion of the Meaning of Things

  1. This poem makes me think of the end of childhood as well as the end of traditions. Egg coloring and pumpkin carving does not seem to happen pntaneosly when the artist has become an adult woman (perhaps those things will happen in her home when she has kids).

  2. This is such a small example, but I was thinking this is how it starts, then we get farther and farther away from the “why” of the things, and then the “what” …

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