Turn Around, Boy
As wild child
he rode the trails on
horse named “Silver”
Yup, as in Hi-Ho
After--still a wild bloke
first of his peers
to drink booze, smoke,
and enjoy solo sex.
In first grade, engaged
in the second, it was said
...he wed.
Skip many years
thousands tears.
Bodies, hearts,
bloodied, broken,
mended not...
One fine morning
in strange city
after playing several days
with chic kitty,
Sadly rode away once more.
Silver now had two wheels
upon which he soared,
leaving behind a sweetness.
Into mobile he mouthed
“I wish to come back.”
She--”Where do you live?”
“In the south”, spoke he.
“Sir, turn your bike around,
face the southern sun.
And RIDE, Clyde—RIDE!
Never you roam from home.”
Wild child no more
rode 'til his ass was sore.
In every life, strife...
In decision, indecision.
AH! Those turning points--
which way to go?
To the north a cliff
straight down to hell?
Kept on keeping on.
Still sober in October
To face sun's heat
...and more.
True life
is of the soul--
not of self, now old
as chunk of mold.
Former deviant,
my body a gift which GOD had sent;
a thing borrowed...
and lent....
steveroni
2011
