PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

'He's touching me, she's touching me' game. 'Don't make me stop this car! ' 
my dad would proclaim. This would silence us for a few minutes, 

long enough to listen to the latest pop song blasting from 
the car radio. An innocent world of ambitions and hoping to stay up late. 

I couldn't imagine the zipping of time  and how it would rush like wildfire when 
I became a man. Sundays would find us dressed in our 'church clothes'. 

Me in my little green suit with the clip-on bow-tie. My sister in her 
little girl dress and hat. White shoes and socks to match. Mom giving us each a 

dime to put in the collection plate. At church putting on my altar boy robes, 
 wondering how I could manage to keep the dime to buy a chocolate bar. 

Would God strike me dead for such thoughts? He never seemed to do so, but then 
again I never kept the dime. Little boys are consistent in their little boy world. 
   
When I look back at those seemingly untroubled times, I can only imagine the 
sucking of the straw that would break the camels back. I can only see the black 

and white television set and not knowing that there could be a world of colours. 
  It's dangerous to pretend to be what one is not. They do not want you to think, 

 they want you to grow up controlled. To fit in and be one of the 'regular' guys. 
Watch sports on television and putter around the house. Vote for the right political 

party and drink the correct sort of beer. Wear the appropriate uniform of conformity 
and despair. Get a job that pays just enough to satisfy your basic needs. Your 

biggest concern being to pay for the house and the new car you are required to buy. 
 Is it any wonder that the streets are filled with wounded eyes hiding