Still Fighting It

Sometimes you just sit in your car listening to “Still Fighting It”
and crying and you know the song’s not, like, for you, you’re 28
not fucking five or whatever, but also that’s the point, right,
it sucks to grow up, you can’t even cry in your car
without people thinking there’s something wrong with you,
if you were a kid no one would think twice about it, hell
they’d probably give you ice cream, moose tracks or cookies
n’ cream, in a waffle cone if you’d been really bawling,
really aging is just the process of being given less and less
ice cream until eventually you have to buy it yourself,
and people act like it’s some kind of privilege, ice cream party
whenever you want, but those people have never been in the middle
of their 2nd bowl of the night, watching Cheers for the 5th time,
and realizing that this is just life now, the easy acquisition
of meaninglessness, no one has ever felt guilty about free ice cream,
free ice cream never hurt anyone—well ok so there was this one time
Dairy Queen didn’t have the blizzard flavor I wanted (french silk
pie) and I made the mistake of mentioning it to my mom
and she was like you should ask them for it anyway, and I was like no
I’ll just get Oreo, and then we get up to the window and she’s ordering
for everyone and then she’s like and my son was wondering
if you had, and she turns to me, what was it, and now I’m on the spot
so I mumble french silk pie and then we’re waiting for our order
and at this point I’m already embarrassed but injury gets piled
on top of this insult because when get our order I don’t get
a french silk pie blizzard I get a fucking heath bar blizzard
and I hate heath bars so I’m now I’m just pissed off and I throw
out the blizzard and just walk home without a word
and you know I don’t have to deal with that shit anymore
so I guess growing up has its perks, is what I’m saying, anyway,
I’ve been sitting in the Cold Stone Creamery parking lot crying
for like 10 minutes now and people are starting to stare.