There are certain rules
I lay down
the framework
of free verse
and a continuing
relationship
Rule one is set in granite:
dance like you are on fire
through the uncut lawn
of my forgotten backyard
and revel in your tripping
over the weeds and dandelions
Rule two is simpler:
laugh unfiltered;
no one special is listening,
after all
Rule three:
this isn't poetry,
this isn't a diary,
this isn't Druidism,
nor transcendentalism,
and my watercolor runs
its muddied rivers of mistakes
in truer tributaries
Be awake! Peter Pan
my flying dream,
my boy never stopped wishing
that the best is yet ahead!
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