A playground
A Childrens play place
We come to this place, and yet
we are not children anymore
We have grown to be the teenagers
you see before you
Things were simpler when we were
young
Now there stands five friends,
in a park, when the moon has risen and the streets are black
An odd number
But these former children, present
teenagers have picked pairs
One couple here, one couple there
Alone stands the last.
She thinks of the situation as
if they were all the tires of society
On pair in the front, one in the
back
She was the spare in this equation
The fifth, the one that seemed
of no importance
But she was important even if she
was left in the back where no one could see her.
She was the spare in case trouble
arose
She would help if any in the pairs
faltered
She knows she would not be about
to fill that void completely, but she knows she would help until a replacement could be found
And so she excepts this fifth tire,
spare wheel label that she think of in her head
At the park, the couples stand
or sit or lay together
She has not a person to couple
with
But does she need one?
The modern car that we call society
never has six wheels.
And so five it is.
She encircles the park, walking
on the boarder line
Until she realizes that she is
walking the fine line of her very own life.
She is nearly walking as though
she were encompassing a tire
Around she went, too many times
to count
But never standing still, there
was no time for that
Every once in a while, she would
do something dramatic, like a skip or a job or a leap
And nearly fall from her trail
of life
Nearly
She has yet to fall, and hope to
not fall for a long times
And keeps adventuring.
The couples giggle, as couples
do
Some make song, in jest in jest
You make me what to something
You make me what to scream
I feel that I am in a something
I feel that I am in a dream
The fifth adds the last line, but
neither one of one of the couple notices
They are happy, and that is enough
for her
She continues her track around
and around
It would be foolish if they were
to add a sixth wheel now to the fifth wheels life
She is so busy, deciding where
to go and how to get there, that the sixth would be ignored
So a sixth would be a none too
good idea.
Giggles, giggles, she keeps her
smile
One spot in her trail, she notices
Is always touched by the same foot
Would she fall if that changed?
A voice calls in the darkness,
what are we doing in a place meant for children to play in the day time
When we are teenagers, filthy,
low down teenagers hanging about at night
Some high on himself sir has called
us away from our land where we can be as happy as we wish
Or to be as stable and helpful
and focused as we might be
Play not in this place
Society wants the fifth, and the
others for that matter, to leave
Before she keeps in memory what
she knows
But her mind is sharp
Society has made us into the teenagers
that this elder man sees, and yet does not have complete control
Society has made us age, and for
the most part, partner
But being in this place of innocence
makes the fifth know what Society will not admit
Coupling is not necessary in this
stage of life
It is, how ever, pleasure for those
who do pair
And when it is not, there are people
such as this fifth wheel of which we speak
Who will aid the gashed others.
Society tells us to double up
She stands alone
Society makes them leave, but she
remembers
She walks home, now alone, pondering
these thoughts that ran in her head while in the place that children play
And dream
She walks alone, the strongest
of the pack
Did you ever wish that you had
a memory that would record every exact wonderful word you thought
Just so you could put it down before
it disappeared?
And crosses the lawns of others
on her way
The lights in her house are all
out except for those on the porch
She opens the door, kick of her
shoes
Oh, how small the shoes are
Perhaps she is still but a child
who can understand but not deliberate the ways of the world
She saunters to her computer and
for once, sits
Not in giving up, but to record
what she has learned
Perhaps other would like to know
this too
And so she writes and writes and
ignores the chatter until she is done
Who will read it? Who will know
what she feels inside as if it was inside them as well?
As she draws near the end of the
page again, she thinks of the circle that he life is
Circles never end, she will live
a long life
Weather or not another wheel is
added is up to the creator of the circle
She creates her own circle