Sedative Sunday

The rhythm of a child for those of you entitled The precious smells delight you Grass stained hearts, adrenaline flows, the line is cast, the sun shines through A serpents drawing closer, sisters hooked in the head It will be lunch time soon!     Serenity explodes on the mountainside Mothers on a leash conducting the symphony You climb the rock and find a head one with answers, one with sand Mixed together a salad of serendipity     Reflect, on the pressures at preschool The abacus I saved from going out the window The statistics down below Kids in flannel, yeah we feel so cool!

The view from the top

I see Dads on fire

hit in the groin by a Caribou

or perhaps a tire iron

Must have been the six pack he threw up on the freeway

What would life be like if we didn’t have a Sunday?

As we head back in the car

the Crayola stuck in my ear blocks the soothing 

mono sounds of AM beneath the dashboard

I stare up at the trees and count the visions in my pockets,

the thoughts collected in my head

No crashing on my body can take them away

Back to the sentence of turmoil

Until next Sunday

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