Ignorance

— Dennis Richardson

When choosing to write about ignorance
I was ignorant of how ignorant I have been
all my life, particularly now, ignorant of the fact
that I’m already revisiting all of those old ignorance’s,
seeing the junkyard again with the wreckage I have caused,
an ugly place for an ugly word, relatively speaking.

So the first thing I did was look in the thesaurus
for a nicer sounding word: greenness sounded possible,
at least for Kermit the frog, who, someone once said,
I sounded like; or maybe nescience, said to be poetic/literary,
maybe I could get away with nescience, if I wanted to risk
some smart-ass shouting out – you mean ignorance?

And there is so much to be ignorant about,
the first of which is relationships.
Where’s my mother, I want to go yell at her
but then I’d have to yell at myself and louder now,
and my father, damn him, and me, and to what avail.

Someone said ignorance is the father of regret,
denial its mother. It’s the reason youth is wasted
on the young, relatively speaking, and it’s true:
ignorance is bliss but only until it catches up with you.
…It ain’t easy being green.

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