Validated by Bruce W NiedtAt 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 members 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 wouldnt 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 childrens 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
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