New Playgrounds


A quandary.
Balanced on a
he said/she saw
of gymnastic proportions--
I was flipping out.
Back-bending into pretzel shapes
to accommodate,
twisting the truths to fit a narrow track
where there was no mirror
either white or black.

Playground bully, pallid complexion-
more color from tatts than sun.
A side-show carny with used car strains.
He colored outside the lines.
All rooster and angry bull yet sweet talker.
Hide and seek--Invented himself
but he was all fiction.
Big house living; he paid his dues.
And close only counts in hand grenades,
reaching a dream and a game of shoes.

Pale imitation of myself
coaxed by the necessary dollar
to work the scale: which had more weight.
Will honor keep my belly full?
Will truth shield me from the storm?
Responsibilities and bills
have no ears to hear
and the voice on the cell
doesn't give a damn:
pay the piper or go to hell.

Almost sixty years gave wisdom pause,
knew what to do and what to not.
The teeter tottered, the die was cast--
I climbed out of the sandbox: it's full of dirt.
I won't be tagged; no more games.
Swinging in new directions,
I pump and push
fresh perspective; different height.
Take what I know and what I love
out on my own and do it right!