One of those rare, precious wonders
that makes you want to be alive
for eternity,
for a moment-

Sometimes I find myself amazed
that something as beautiful as water exists.

Other times, I think there can’t
be anything quite so stupid as a fountain-

Water shooting up in spurts to fall right back down,
always.
Like desperate, uncontrolled accidents.

And the thing about beauty is when I find it,
I never want to leave,
even if it’s fleeting.
Maybe that’s the reason.

But the problem with sleeping at water fountains
is I left my notebook in my room,
so this poem wants engraved on a fountain with a rock,
and I can’t blame the deed on the ten year old punks-

Because they’re punks, so they already left,
even though when they asked, “Why are we sitting at a water fountain?”
I told them, “Because the water’s pretty.”

They didn’t get it,
or my name either.
They kept on calling me John.

So I’d be left lying here, with the rock still in my scarlet hands,
because I can’t drop the rock because
rocks are wonders, too.

The punks, I briefly thought pathetic,
bebopping around like they owned the world,
but then I remember they’re Keegan Cole-
The coolest kid in all fifth grade!

I wonder if they’re angry.

That’s the thing about cool kids-
The boys are angry, the girls sad and scared,
and I guess I forgot to make a distinction between the sexes, didn’t I?

I think I stay by pretty things, not because they’re beautiful
or unique- Everything is. I just selectively notice it.
Something occurs inside me so that I notice, and
I guess I just like to stay that way.

Only, sometimes after I stare long enough,
I think nothing’s quite so stupid as
a fountain.

But that must not be all I think, because I keep sitting here-

Poems. Poems are pretty.
Legal ones are usually best.
I guess I’ll go, for when home has a poem, I find there’s beauty there.

See, I can’t leave any beautiful thing,
until other beauty draws me near.

The punks almost did. But I don’t want
to graffiti. Or track punks.

They’re always acting confident, flippant even,
as if brave, but numb to my soul.

They’ll pet their feelings someday.
I think that would be pretty cool.

For now, they are simply beautiful.