The Sun That Blazes
They tell me to run with it. My nose tells me to run with it.
My dad always told me to never value anyone’s face until you’ve dug enough.
I wasn’t too sure I wanted to become a journalist even though he lived his life for it.
My memory was never the best; my childhood is basically Swiss cheese.
Not too many people got past my face, especially the guys who would constantly try to date me.
My daddy’s newspaper, The Blazing Sun, put New Jersey on the map.
(Yes, I know about Springsteen.)
I keep trying to pinpoint what made me change my mind about this profession.
Was my dad that much of an influence?
Was it the path of least resistance?
But I can’t help but to keep coming back to my memory.
How can someone so young be so terrible at remembering things?
The doctors say I’m normal, so it’s not a physical issue.
I guess I figured at some point if I got good at being nosy, focusing on the details of life, it would all come back to me.
Who knows? Crazier logic have worked for other people.