I wanted to retreat back into my childhood,
but every time I made the attempt I failed.
I read up on advanced physics
to understand the non-linear shape of time,
but I failed to grasp it fully
and only went back as far as last week
when that green chili corn dog
gave me heart burn.
I read a bunch of Heinlein books
and reread the one about Job three times
and wished for an interested god
to change my circumstances,
but nothing happened—
at least, nothing I recognized.
As the winter holidays were approaching,
I sought a way to summon
the ghost of Christmas past
and ask him to take me back,
but my failed conjuration efforts
centered around stale cookies
left on a broken porcelain plate
and a sour glass of milk.
Since I could not retreat
back into my childhood
I sought a way to advance
into the same region
from a different angle,
but all my industrious efforts
where for naught
and my feet were sore
by the end of the day
and, really, all I wanted
was for someone
to buy me a banana split
like my Dad use to do on my birthday
and feel that sort of joy again.