We
desire “good,”
that
which is equal,
in
that which is fair.
How
to approach, where
a
mind is unequal, even unfair?
I
ask, to strike a conscience,
where
to want is to give. I drift.
Its
sundown, for lights are grooming, where sights are perky.
There’s
a pumpkin, carved for value, wearing a small jacket.
In
the distance, there’s a ladder, even a raspy voice. A son
and
father are yelling. The father screams, “Do it because I
said
so.” The son retorts, “I smoke because you smoke.”
A
flower falls
to
the left, where the father is right,
to
live a
paradox.
A
frog leaps, to catch their attention. The father
smiles,
to utter, “How about we both quit?”
The
son nods in
agreement,
grips a rake, and heads for the front yard.
