The Piggybacks
I can feel them behind me.
It is a piggyback ride of warnings.
My mother leans over my shoulder
alert to the road ahead with dire warnings.
Her mother is behind her in preposterous exclamations!
Some days I take sharp turns & the entire lineage leans
in shrill echoes, as they drop by the wayside.
That is when I run into myself in a high five.
I take myself into a path hacked earlier in darkness.
Now I can stretch into an open highway.
I chase superficial dreams that may lead nowhere,
but it is my own way & the borders are black strips
I have put in place myself.
They can be ripped away at a moment's notice.
The sun startles me into a masterpiece
of exploration & drawings.
I am a gossamer girl of cartwheels.
I am the slow motion of uninterrupted sleep,
the leisure of going where I like & looking
from my own eyes, into a keyboard
of the songs that only I have written.
From my wrist, a linked watch dangles.
Any time now I will return to the sharp turn.
I will shake those, older & wiser than myself,
into the heart of my journey.
They will pretend outrage as they examine
each new thought created, on my individual voyage.
I will throw love over my shoulder..and continue on.