Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

innocence in stock?
playtime a torrent.
precious salve needed.

swings low and highs.
slide like the wind; climb
spider-red web — now
he’s asail on the deep sea.

mud puddles* all around.
running, jumping, playing, chasing.

especially loved my grand chasing the sweet
little girl. adorable….quite adorable
and my grown-like-a-weed grandson
playing so sweetly...quite sweetly with the throng.

but the pudgy kid
carried a twisted wire
and his parents let him carry
guns — no permit, not concealed,

toy guns in fact,
as he rings my young grandsons neck
with the crook
of his elbow and him and another kid
hold guns to his head.
this is playtime?
WHAT...THE…

the youngest boy wearing a tube hat,
starts acting out cujo,
going after the “big kid,” 
who also got kicked in the knee
and the butt.

it was time to leave this public park.
my youngest grand had escaped
the treachery with an elbow to the perpetrator’s gut
and i left this sordid scene as if it was
a bar room brawl,
“Let’s go.”

so let’s judge —
where were these parents?
likely seated on the outskirtting benches.
of course they would have come down on me,
like a waterfall, if i had had to pry my precious grand
from one of the soulless kid’s hands.

2/20/2021

*using as a verb here

**YES! A TRUE STORY!

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