To Anne the middle sister
what would it be, to be in the middle
neither left nor right
neither too loose nor too tight
In the middle of some city
clinging to islands south sitting
formal presentation on one end
artistic inquisitor on the other
At the top a confused brother
all pretending to play a game they didn't invent
with their own interpretation of events
of what it is to extract approval
Though what of the middle
is that where chaos swelters
or on those treacherous poles
where there is no shelter
Mother Anne how was it for you
inside the five under the two?
euphoria and revolution slowly fade
after those radical sweet decades
A time when I was not
or the piece of me unfound in such times
floating only on a whiff
what were they for you? historic gifts
how was life a tractor
how was it a tram
creating routines in the field
or up steep narrow street jams
what did you take with you
what have you left behind
what shaped your beliefs
or stained your very eyes
for there aren't many currencies of worth
but for knowledge mother...
thats paydirt
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