Merry-Go-Round

Dried out.

Wrung dry.

Burned up.

Bled down.

Bitter.

Angry.

Dismayed.

Frustrated.

Humiliated.

Like a hamster on the wheel.

A runner on the treadmill.

Hearing the same people

Saying the same things.

How did I come to live

In Seahaven?

I’m not Truman.

I hoped I never would be.

But it seems I am.

I hear Traffic

And Transit on the Ones

And Weather on the Eights,

Hoping I were up there,

Dismayed that I’m not.

Life’s not about the traffic.

Life’s not about the wheel.

I wasn’t meant to move around

In mere circles.

Why did they ask me

To stay within the lines

When I doodled in

The coloring books?

I was meant to live

Outside the lines,

Away from the hamster wheel,

Free as a gazelle.

I wasn’t meant to follow you around

In a big circle.

I was meant to run through

The wheat fields,

Giddy with the glee of freedom.

To hell with the traffic

To hell with the rain and ice.

It’s time to get off the merry-go-round

And take delicious, delirious

flight.