Time to pretend.
That’s what weekend wars were about.
Youth, electric kids of the 4th dimensional transition,
telling pieces of what childhood looked like in the tongues
of moons, birds and monsters,
haunting your dreams until you agreed to reluctantly give up your toy chest.
Handshakes at the dinner table seal the deal
to future reflections of missing important tree house meetings,
not lending your pal your comic books for the weekend and
saying no to sleepovers due to homework.
How long have you yearned for Saturday morning cartoons?
To have the screen so close to your face,
memorized by the electric feel radiating
towards the tip of your nose instead of
touring a photo album of Saturday mornings of long ago
over a morning cup of coffee.
How long has it been?