Your favorite childhood channel
suddenly uploads its most beloved movie,
but it’s suddenly their twenty-year anniversary.
You watch it,
screaming your lungs out,
knowing every word to the songs,
and suddenly you’re ten again.
Suddenly, you’re ten again.
Your mom picks you up from the public school you attend to on Fridays,
a place you neither like nor dislike,
where existing is just enough.
Suddenly, you’re ten again.
where your first-world problem
is deciding whether or not to attend
the English course your mom has signed you up for.
You can’t help but wonder if
the class will help you long enough
until the future arrives.
Suddenly, you’re ten again,
and your mom takes you by public transportation,
and the breeze of Friday winds are always refreshing,
and the sun happily brightening your mood,
and you know if it’s like this, it’s just Friday.
Suddenly, you’re ten again.
Every Friday, you would still come up to the class,
even though a wee little part of you doesn't want to,
even though you feel like you’re on the outside,
even though you feel you might, maybe, belong.
Suddenly, you’re ten again,
where the waft of the drooling meals from the canteen
draws you enough to finally make you say,
“I’ll have a chicken wing, 3.45.”
Suddenly, you’re ten again.
Your father’s old red bright Toyota Corolla GL sedan waits
outside your course place, and you hop into it,
where he plays his favorite evergreens.
Suddenly, you’re ten again.
You get excited, wondering if he’ll turn right or left,
for right means going home,
and left means play since tomorrow’s weekend.
Suddenly, it is twenty years ago,
and the song ends,
but you stay a little longer,
for you're a ten-year-old,
not wanting to grow up yet.
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