Nothing brightens your day like a burst of sunlight
Another shining chip off the blazing ball
And likewise contentment when the ball’s
Undone, aspiration folded in intention
Bursts out as commitment, and then the road
Down which you saunter, skip, or in my case
Limp, toward who or God knows what —

Am I being picked up or picked on, it’s slippery,
How the words in my head seem not to go through my brain
Certainly not through any sensible sanitizing procedures
But simply squirt out as jangling combustibles,
These tousled spears with now and then
A rhyme that’s not mine
A piece of cake or a plastic steak
I got from a much-loved natural child
I clutch against my chest all wet with tears —

I’m not crying because of something sad