Teensy
A poem of time and opportunity
Vietnamed in my youth —
all big and loud and might —
Martin-Luther-Kinged in my teens —
devastation unmeasurable —
Bobby-Kennedied in my vulnerability —
crying for days wrapped in blankets
in summer heat, not knowing time or truth.
Giant, gargantuan, the problems,
the pains, the disappointments —
Would they never end, would we be free?
Yes, “free” in capitalism, stuck in stock markets,
losing more than we gained, never enough
for those with too little and too much for the rest.
And, now,
Well, now,
We are Trumped daily, never-ending sound bites
and tweets and misleading campaign commercials
disguised as viral press conferences.
I feel weary and sad and lost.
Who am I?
Where am I?
Who the fuck are you?
In despair and depression, I look down —
there is a tree frog, tiny and green, and he…
