In hindsight, I was never brave
but young, eager, adventurous,
simply put, a thriving soul.
Now, as I write, I expect
the keyboard to self-correct
my words, my notions, my
irrelevance, to give directions
like a car avatar, to lead
the way to safer memories,
a more optimistic future—
or metaphors, at least, similes.
Just yesterday, I sat smiling
like a clown on a park bench
in some strange town
and watched intensely
toddlers play for hours
as they discovered the world,
used their power to create it.
If I had been a man so focused,
I might have been suspected
of being a pervert, a predator.
But all I wanted was to capture
a sense of their unburdened
thoughts, to know how
I got from there to here
where the end moves forward
and my mind won’t push back.
