kaleidoscope

and i don’t want to tell you

how now i relate to the restless

the reckless

the back-row sitters

the marriage-quitters

those bankrupt on friendship

with blood on their hands 

and knives in their backs 

Is this what growing up is?

place an ad for my innocence

lost

missing

last seen on

what i’ll tell you is

the way that it 

looks from where I’m standing kneeling—

through a hundred, a thousand more eyes—

feels a little more like

a kaleidoscope 

and for all the deferred hope

i wouldn’t change this view for the world