Repast
by Shari-Lyn McArthur
This text will be replaced by the
flash music player.
Times ain't like they used to be.
Ever listen to Country?
Times have never been like they used to be.
Seriously!
Back in the day,
the local palais,
a kid could really stomp.
There were no fences
to our frontiers;
no collars
to fetter our breath
making fears.
Nothing like this parent-supervised-play-date crap of today.
Be home for dinner,
was all my mother had to say.
(And for dessert, she served forgiveness, rare.)
You stomp
still.
You take
a mile
and claim it
a metric inch.
(Conversion formula memorised. Please do not show all your work.)
Well, at least I never went hitchhiking.
Only because your boyfriend
was a drummer
in a punk rock band,
and drove a bedroom
in a custom van.
What's for dessert?
All rights reserved by the author.
Home
List of poems
Submissions/Contact
us
