POETRY

Day of the Katamari

by Kenton deAngeli

When the Katamari came for the pushpin,
I said nothing
because it was not as big as me.

When the Katamari came for the spatula,
I was silent
because I was heavier than the spatula
and he rolled it right up.

When the Katamari came for the
dog, cat, walrus, robot, monster truck, snapping alligator, television, and paper cranes,
I again remained silent,
and they, too, were rolled up.

Some time passed,
during which I ate five meals,
smoked seventeen cigarettes,
and attempted to shit twice,
failing both times.

I napped sweatily.
It was summer.
There wasn't really anything around any more, just
flatness and wreckage
and several objects of mine
even the Prince didn't want.

When the Katamari later came
for the multitude of cars and bear statues he needed, he was moving pretty
slowly, and I figured the thing must get heavier with everything he picks up.
But the little dude kept trucking, even dwarfed by this nascent star,
and it occurred to me briefly to think about feeling encouraged.

I yelled up to him,
"HEY DON'T LISTEN TO YOUR DAD
LITTLE PRINCE
HE'S TOTALLY A DICK AND
HE'S NEVER SATISFIED WHY DON'T YOU GO ON A ROAD TRIP OR SOMETHING
GET AWAY FROM IT ALL"

He didn't take my advice
instead he got really pissed off and
he tried to roll over me but he couldn't. We stood there, and,
feeling awkward, I offered to give him a hand
and he glared and trundled away

And I'm sorry, little prince,
for all the worlds you made and never got to see;
and Sisyphus' rock never grew like yours,

but I never pegged you for a fascist
no matter how heavy things got,
or how many times your efforts got exploded into the cosmos
to fall and burst and flame
like all those burning things I'm sure you wished on
before your series of spherical burdens,
and after your head got all weird-looking.