Calculated Risks

I picked myself up,

And faced a picture

That pointed – back at me,

Saying to the child:

“Hey, –

That’s who you’re going to be!”

I stepped aside,

And strapped my watch on,

Feeling the binds of time

As it clicked into place,

For what I feared the final time.

So I turned and pocket-ed my pens,

Popping a barley travel sweet,

And bit my bottom lip

To bear the weird throbbing in my hip

Bidding the background adieu

With a couple, quick, pleasantries.

A pile of past identities lay,

Strewn across the floor.

I guess I have some laundry,

I sighed a little more.

I picked up the calculator,

And stepped under the string lines,

“Come on now,” I said.

It’s examination time.


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