Why I turned out the way I am

 

It’s for your own good

my father belted.

My mother did the same but

at the dinner table with peas.

Mr. Drury in Grade 7 had me

write lines of PPPPPPPs

“It’s for your own good”, he opined.

 

Cigarettes are now 10 bucks a pack

and casinos $1,000 plane rides away.

“It’s for your own good”, they say.

 

Seat belts, sanitoriums and saints

always a safe, sane step away.

My wife, my ever, always wife

books me monthly to see a doctor

as much a dunce as a doc can be.

All he offers are pills and pleasantries.

Both saying, “It’s good for you!”

 

Wars, weddings, sprayed green lawns

papal proclamations and government edicts ….

It’s all for your own good

they declare when asked.

 

I am, my life now nearly done

I have yet to truly taste what

we call – free.

I followed footsteps and danced

for my own good, like I was told.

Thinking back I now know how

I came to be who I am

this man, here and now

finally at home in the world

on edge, now so aware

of what really is good for me,

my flusher broke.

 

It’s like one day you wake up

And realize there ain’t no jello tree

and the gingerbread man has

run out of your dreams or

you find out the dictionary

was written by a dyslexic pedophile

and you head out the door to

write your own.

 

Antigua, Guatemala

October, 2014

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