Boxes
Boxed up inside painted walls
Of the square thing you call home
You have the softest bed the prettiest sheets
And a wooden box to store your memories
The box of color that you gulp down in
Helps you sleep
And kills the dream
A deep deep slumber counting on numbers
Of sheep being slaughtered.
A box of fame with your bolded name
You try to live up to that square piece of metal
Hanging outside your door, which is always closed
Guarding your thoughts and squares of gold.
The square machine you delve into
Is your window to the world,
Enhanced colors enhancing shapes
But all you see is a square with the four walls
Moving in on you.
There’s a key hole in that door of yours
If you get up and see, you’ll get a view of a world
that’s a different shape--Small and meek
And trails through a box that you seem to know.
Yes it’s that house you grew up in
Yes it’s that box you keep under your bed
It’s that square that has your Dad’s name on it
It’s the world that sucks you in.
You’re on a farm
holding Grand Daddy’s hands
You’re swimming beside a paper boat
That your sister made
and the skin of Mom’s arm feels warm
There’s lemonade
And a yard of joy
There’s beer and the college band
And there’re dreams of making it big
You’re standing on a round green thing,
with a blue curtain hovering
It’s called the world and you want to see it all
You breathe it in and smell the pollens
You see all of them, all of a sudden..
The little girls from middle school
Are all fine women now
In their boxes, counting squares
Of paper bills
And fluttering wings,
That want to fly
A different shape
A different sky
Another world
Another time.