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Validated

by Bruce W Niedt

At the natural history museum,

one of the membership perks

is free parking, if I show my ticket.

 

I enter the garage and pluck

a tongued-out slip of cardstock

from the machine, plant my car

in a tight dark lair,

and emerge from the depths

to the member’s desk.

 

I meet a young woman in black,

adorned with nose ring and hair a red

more befitting a sports car than a head.

“Do you want to be validated?’

she asks.

 

With my mind, I say

Yes     yes     yes!

Who wouldn’t want validation?

Certainly you –

How do you attain it?

With this bold fashion statement?

This job, a means to an end

for your B.A. in business?

With your boyfriend or girlfriend

and your fevered gymnastics in bed?

 

How do I validate myself?

With my family,

my children’s success?

My job, by now,

a means to an end for retirement?

Or my writing,

my manic attempts to be a name,

leave something indelible,

before I get kicked off

this fat old marble?

 

With my mouth, I say simply, “Yes,”

and receive a stamp on my ticket

as reward for my response,

a little red clock-face to show

That I was here, and now.

 

I wander off to gaze at

a dead stuffed polar bear,

frozen in the moment of

swiping a fish from the icy water.

Perhaps this was when

he felt validated, too.

10/07/2001

Posted on 10/07/2001
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Michael Faraday on 05/17/07 at 11:50 AM

Well said poem. Enjoyed it immensely! :)

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