Thumbs swung from his suspenders;
he condemned while on rocking heel.
Tombstone patriarch, he waited; watched me grow
and not a syllable speared to pop our stoic seal.
His dumb message emerged from inside a deeper recess-
a trifle more ominous to confront but easier to feel.
Yet, I managed to ignore it, to its bold face....
Why? calloused paws failed to swipe the threatened blow...
In defiance of nature's time honored pace,
I struck out, off-beat; doing what ever `I felt I should!'
Begot myself into and through sundry riots;
but, Be Damned if he weren't right, and I turned out no good.
MX



Prev. Pub. Wefayers May 98/ It's A Dick Thing 2000/ The Advocate Summer 92/ Ascent Aspirations 2006