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.