"look at me, papaw! look at me."
his five year-old world in a bubble.

as his head turns he surveys his
land of wonder. sidewalks: some broken,
some smooth, some repaired. streets.
"I never gone so far", he exclaims.

i look at the head of a thousand images;
many acute, many blurry, all impressive;
he peddles and peddles, as tricycling becomes
a childhood form of a tricyclic neurosis.

i step-in as the surrogate psychiatrist, hurriedly
pronounce the boy well by my imagination.

and my web of wonderment is stirred to wake, i'm
a sea cucumber devouring the by-product of another.

a cool breeze radiatator's me to dreamy Cabos;
his world of "real" vampires and dragons lies intact.

and my world of what we have to agree is real.
we nod, for perception is reality.

09/05/2011

Posted on 09/05/2011
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