I live in a world of over abundance and overprotection,
With two little gates keeping me in and holding me back,
Like the harness around the sidewalk-dog's neck.
His owners stroll down softly rolling roads,
Passing the cookie cutter stucco homes
With the porch lights that never flicker imperfection.
The pedestrians amble with fingers interlocked
And kept behind their backs,
Like a secret they can't help but hide
From whatever may crumble or shine outside the gates.