December 10
The Way West
The sun reflected in the windows winks at me as I fly
over. The plane climbs higher and the
reflected light no longer reaches me. I
slip from my eastern bonds. I am west
coast bound. The carpet of snow was laid
down to quiet the passage. Clouds take
over the task, then part to reveal the patchwork of the middle ground. We cross the Stateline without a sound; a few
more miles then touchdown.
Putter with intrigue
*
FREE THE PATE
Arrested development was bad enough
The living death sentence
It imposes is completely unacceptable.
My childhood ran downhill
Away from the mountains of confusion
Which is life in this society.
My ability to mature was damaged
And what I learned to do was mutate.
I could move laterally but never grow up.
I became the goose grown for its liver
And all the honk and squawk
In the world couldn’t change it.
I don’t have to understand
How I was let out of the prison of addiction
As long as I don’t go back.
I will never have to fear breaking out in handcuffs
Or getting locked in my crib.
Arrested development was bad enough
The living death sentence
It imposes is completely unacceptable.
My childhood ran downhill
Away from the mountains of confusion
Which is life in this society.
My ability to mature was damaged
And what I learned to do was mutate.
I could move laterally but never grow up.
I became the goose grown for its liver
And all the honk and squawk
In the world couldn’t change it.
I don’t have to understand
How I was let out of the prison of addiction
As long as I don’t go back.
I will never have to fear breaking out in handcuffs
Or getting locked in my crib.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
