best a toddler know all that he feels,
and see it, too, reflected in Mom’s eyes,
attune it with the notes her voice reveals —
or cry blue tears upon her ample thighs.
best a youth embrace what he will do
when he grows up by striding off with Dad
to find, for left and right, the fitting shoe,
embrace a life’s work that can make him glad.
floundering’s the route we mostly take.
We grasp for titillation, sexual fashion —
high pay and rank — no matter how opaque.
The outer eye’s ablaze with them til ashen.
inner eye that might see through the smoke
just shuts its lids against this long sick joke.
2006 by Leland