memory is a stalker who will pounce
when you least expect it

some memories come in beautiful colour touching
touched long ago and remembered for fleeting moments

but the in-house stalker with a vengeance
is the one you would willingly shake off and forget forever

Part of our love, love
submits to social engineering.

The man with the money has,
all barriers disintegrated.

This is what we have, my  darlings
a poor example.

We are born shackled,
and live a dream of freedom.

Never let it go
your life depends on it.

At your breast he likes to play
     dive-for-the-******.
Like an Olympian on the high platform
     he rears back,
     contemplates the distance,
     the object,
then lunges.

Today he grabs his own hair, pulls.
     And screams.
The more he pulls, the more he screams
     until I unclutch his fingers.

Don’t we all wish sometimes
     a big hand would swoop down
     to unclutch us
     from our mistakes?
Then, oh! to rear back
     and lunge
at life’s big love.