During the years prior to high-school graduation, It was never a “piece-of-cake” To adjust back to reality. A.K.A. school, immediately following Occasions, such as vacations, for any reason, or even ordinary weekends. There’s also that event that took place during a “school night,” Where the thought of have to “hit the books” the next day Haunted my conscience amid focus and participation, as I knew There never were many take-off extensions during the week. I’d be one who tended To stare out a window and fantasize Of the arousals and feel-goods From being around groups or plainly out of the house. There were times where I’d stare And picture still being with my grandparents in Pittsburgh Upon arriving home from visiting them at their house. On some Sundays, we’d host a family from our church To watch football games, eat, chat, And freeze-tag around the condensed square of yard Shielding the Kearneysville property. How could I have bounced right into school Monday With thoughts of care-free run-arounds And my loosened muscles on furniture while watching football Still spinning in my head? Is fun really a dream come true Or is it a manipulative dream that speeds up during the good times And slows down with the drags in life? I’d even find myself adjusting to reality Even if I were not the primal host at my house. When either my parents or siblings Would invite friends or other people distracting their attention to the house, I’d always feel like I had the house to myself, Their attention on the humane outlier making them invisible And not focusing on my whereabouts or whodunits. To me, stepping off the grass and back on the mud track of reality Won’t always work the way it should, Whether recovering from brief gathering events Or rock concert trips. I heard a Sunday sermon where the minister referred to humanity as each a “vacationer.” Might that imply that reality is an effortful fantasy? After all, don’t vacations require work too?