as if the rocks below
were other people
and to talk was a bungee jump.
But then, after force of practice,
we all
seemed equally anxious.
Yes, a plateau of us
a plate of fruit
ripe for the angry ones
who like to grip and
force us to listen
to their tiny
slaps
so tightly restrained.
But I’m getting used to even them;
One done, then onto the next.
It’s the voice that betrays --
at first a gentle
tiptoe
then roll out
all that ferocity
squeezed into
just one
little word
a drop
of poison.
But I’m immune.
Kind of comical now
how it’s the world to them.
SB
(One season down and onto the next. The first few months were difficult but my skin is thicker now. So I'm looking forward to some fun times.)