The Other Side of the Fence
Once he crawled through a jagged hole in the Cyclone fence
Separating sixty-seven from sixty-eight,
He discovered that the differences were negligible;
Indeed, he felt just as confused, disoriented, lost.
Nobody's faces had changed, at least not appreciably;
The same shifty, suspicious eyes stared at him.
He was as bewildered, bedeviled as he'd been the day before,
But now, he was supposed to be older, thus wiser,
Capable of distinguishing truth from subterfuge, lies from both.
What had driven him to believe things would be different,
That the arrival of a birthday would be salubrious,
Have a deep, lasting effect on how he'd perceive reality?
Could it have been unbidden optimism, blind faith in the future,
The promise of a "better day,"
Hope for a glowing rainbow bridging yesterday and tomorrow?
He wasn't sure, couldn't say or even venture a guess.
All he knew was that the jagged hole in the Cyclone fence
Had closed, behind him, and that, once again, he was doomed.
04/20/09 - (1)
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