Lyrics

I was in the first grade when I wrote my first poem:
“I wish I was a turtle, then I’d always be at home.”
And now, just like a turtle, I retreat into my shell,
protectively sequestered in my softly padded cell.
The carapace I carry is a geodesic dome.
I’m restlessly domestic in my armored mobile home.

They say there is a turtle on which the world rests,
that rests upon a turtle in an infinite regress
of turtles that go on and on, all the way down.
There is no bottom turtle that rests on solid ground.
No wonder my existence feels intrinsically unsound.
The groundwork of the universe is nowhere to be found.

The story of my life is a one-way palindrome.
It’s written in my DNA, in every chromosome.
I hear my heartbeat ticking just like a metronome.
I wish I was a turtle, then I’d always be at home.

If memory serves me, which is often not the case,
I’ve heard your voice before and I recognize your face.
The things that I remember are starting to erase,
and the things that I’ve forgotten are gone without a trace.
They say that slow and steady always wins the race,
but my money’s on the hare to win; the tortoise just to place.

The meaning of nostalgia is the pain of going home.
I keep all of my memories encased in Styrofoam.
Wherever I may wander, wherever I may roam,
I wish I was a turtle, then I’d always be at home.