Thomas and I took all our change to the coinstar on Friday night. We made 122 dollars and went promptly to Best Buy to get the first season of Heroes on DVD. Neither of us had ever seen an episode before, but we'd heard that it ruled.
This morning, as we were watching the second episode, and we were whispering things to each other like, "Ok, so I guess we're to understand that it runs in families" as we figured out the rules to this alternate universe, I was suddenly reminded of a poem I love by Nick Flynn, called
Cartoon Physics, part 1.
Children under, say, ten, shouldn’t know
that the universe is ever-expanding,
inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies
swallowed by galaxies, whole
solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning
the rules of cartoon animation,
that if a man draws a door on a rock
only he can pass through it.
Anyone else who tries
will crash into the rock. Ten-year-olds
should stick with burning houses, car wrecks,
ships going down--earthbound, tangible
disasters, arenas where they can be heroes. You can run
back into a burning house, sinking ships
have lifeboats, the trucks will come
with their ladders, if you jump
you will be saved. A child
places her hand on the roof of a schoolbus,
and drives across a city of sand. She knows
the exact spot it will skid, at which point
the bridge will give, who will swim to safety
and who will be pulled under by sharks. She will learn
that if a man runs off the edge of a cliff
he will not fall
until he notices his mistake.