ode to definitions
froth would be a great name for a band
& probably is. during the week of scheduled merry, mass mirth,
i learned about a band people younger than myself enjoy
& the mirth did burst,
the merry positively frothed
when i watched their latest music video.
how much they danced
just with their hands! the music video
as an art form—revived!
during the supposedly mirth-merriest
time of year, i was not ready to shed my supposings, my position of not
humbug exactly,
but kinda bah, yes.
then, this most kissable song
about outer space (they danced
in their spacesuits!). then, i looked up
the definition of “froth”: a mass of small
bubbles caused by agitation, fermentation, or
some other thing, & otherwise
known as foam. to froth
is to cause or contain this mass of small
bubbles otherwise known as foam & usually overflowing
from a can of soda, beer, or
soul. to foam is to be overly effusive
about a band people younger than yourself enjoy.
i love definitions.
they don’t box me in
except for all the time i’ve lived
in the united states of america since the age of 4.
(since i was 4, not since the united states of america was 4.)
one of my brothers is turning 28 next month
& on the xmas family video call i said, wow.
wow
are we all getting old. & he said, yeah, that’s how time works.
& i was both chapfallen & crestfallen, the definition for both
being the other. i couldn’t understand why
he had to be so factual. i love definitions
but hate facts.
i love definitions that are forever questions
due to my never remembering them,
my always looking them up
or in the middle of wondering about.
this would also describe
my relationship with the spelling of “entrepreneurial.”
entrepreneurially speaking, holidays &
most days, i am irritated.
my other brother turns 27 in the spring. he would be great
in a band, but would never
do that, he’s far too busy pursuing his other creative talents
to financial success & deep fulfillment.
i’m proud of him, though also
irritated, now that he has
barely a thing to justify to our parents,
maybe just his haircut.
i’m proud of the life i’ve made
out of words & fairly adventurous haircuts,
yet i’m irritated with myself
every day. i’m
an artist, meaning a massively small self-esteem & a love for
everything minutely vast. froth, the artist formerly known
as foam!—i love stuff like that. i cherish
how my boyfriend,
a bit older than me, said he’s closest to the tall & quiet
one in the band, though
even taller & quieter,
& i said, definitely
taller, but quieter (??), you’re never quiet,
& he said,
fuck you, i am 8 foot 4 & have never spoken a word.
my favorite definition of mirth,
which happens to be the main one, is gladness or gaiety
as shown by or accompanied with laughter.
gaiety!
can you guess why i love that definition? yes, i am
queer as in fuck you, but i am also gay
as in i don’t know
how to live in this world or why i should
& isn’t that fun.
little bubbles full of feeling.
the holidays—do you ever wish there were more & better
gay holiday movies? do you ever watch a gay movie
because you are gay
& looking for yourself, then looking for other gays,
then looking for yourself, again?
do you ever watch a gay movie & find yourself
happy, even
mirthful, frothing with
yay, gaiety? only for the ending
to be um, utterly ruinous?
do you ever watch yourself
being gay as in person turning
35 & the guinness world record holder
for most consecutive nights spent tearful by a scented candle?
i’m not answering that, but thank you for asking.
