That grin
enviably free of worry
should be an advertisement
for the way things ought to be.
Effusive innocence
casts itself from a
twenty year old snapshot
like juice from a fatted orange
pierced by a thumb
spitting jealous longing
on people who wear pants
giving anything in trade to
erase what they know
about growing up
to sit next to a
gleamy eyed kid
making butt prints in the earth
proudly touting a dirty nose and
Sedona sand on his Underoos.
Must we ever leave there
the paradise of naivete'
devoid of threat
absent of concern
universe of
daddy-can-whip-anyone?
Enemies do not exist
because we have not yet
learned hate.
Joy is first instinct
until we grow into fear.
The world is fig leafs and beauty
before a cynical serpent
has his way with us.
A father begs his son
"STAY THERE! STAY THERE!"
Protection is lost
outside the frame.
There's no recourse
for growing up.