A Wayward Son
Though your earnestness was never questioned,
you spent all your years becoming an expert in
arcana for which no employer would pay a wage.
Now, thanks to you, the town is in perpetual darkness.
You think the children should be afraid of you,
but a boy gives you his bicycle.
You flip it upside down and crank the pedal.
The free-spinning wheel lights up the sky
and churns barrels of the finest ice cream.
You Survived the Ordeal
now red wine
stains a cork
the heat of it
in the afternoon