Tuesday, January 14, 2025

poem

 Playing House

We didn’t play house as children

Because that was the grown up’s game

And we didn’t like the way of the grown ups

Which was always the same old game.

Like theirs, our games ended with a mom and a dad 

Screaming at each other while the rest of us

Stood around wide eyed and dumbfounded

Until one or the other stormed out of the shaded grove

And slammed a pretend door behind them 


We played a game called anything goes

First there was dancing and singing

Stomping and breaking

Shouting and clanging

Poisons and antidotes

Bows and arrows

Cities and hovels 

We were angels on days when God was away


Then everyone took five minutes of self time

Spaced equidistantly throughout the prickle tree grove

And concentrated on what they most wanted to do

Or to be or to sing or to share 

And then it would happen—

We’d all be doing exactly what each of us wanted 

Which was to be doing it all together.


Then we would take turns

Playing indeterminate bit roles 

In every one else’s private game. 

The more you knew the person

The easier it was to go with the flow.

Sometimes you ended up with a major part

You never knew you played in someone else’s life. 


But it was never meant for us.

That wouldn’t have been enough.

We would have grown bored

After just a few afternoons playing.


Once the final scene from the last game 

Involving all of us had played out 

We’d vote on which one was the “best” and which the “most fun”

You would think that would be the same 

But it never was.

We’d then return to the regular world 

And re-enact our “best” game

In front of the first group of people we crossed.

If no one noticed, other than to shoo us 

Out of the way, then we had lost.

But if someone stopped to watch 

It was a win. 

Twice a man clapped

And once, an old lady wept.


The “most fun” game we kept

To ourselves 

But never played again

And soon forgot 


When we grew up 

We started to remember  

But only the least important parts,

The ones we thought were real.


1/14/25

No comments: