Sailboat Wars
August, 2008
Sailboats race
along a puddle’s
edge while
dancing children,
triumphant
in their
games,
slip noisily behind.
Green grass, slick from rain and
scattered with red balloon corpses
remembrances of the birthday
clown, driven from the field of
battle by icicle swords and
peanut allergies.
You do not envy his escape, his
defeat, you, a dark figure waiting
wondering confused at the paper
eviction – prison
in your hands
A sailboat
tips, one child
mutinous
against another’s crew
follows the
king snake away
from the
shelter of mothers’
eye, knowing
freedom for
a few veiled
seconds before
chastising
hands pull him
back to
slushy puddles and
sailboat
wars.
Is this what you see? When
looking through your grimy
window, salvation in mock battles and
magic games.
Is he thinking of snake holes and
gnomes dancing under stones
where more interesting prey
waits for sunlight?
Battles end
but the warriors are not
ready to
return to the
mundane. Stomachs call for
feasting and
for
rest
before another hunt.
Or perhaps you see
nothing, through your haze of
cheap liquor and stale cigarettes,
television wars and satisfaction
addicted to the death of bones.
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