My Passageway
It hung crooked from ancient hinges and years of use.
An odd combination of 2x4s and cross braces,
diagonal wires tugged it into square,
but gradually it sagged and wobbled.
This was my passageway to fun, freedom and childhood imagination...
My Seven Seas: an old claw-foot bathtub used as a trough.
Outmaneuvering the goldfish-colored Moby Dick swimming
below, I captained my boat - careening across monster waves
to deserted islands. "X" marked the spot to
unexpected paths which led to buried treasure
through desert, jungle and exotic sights, sounds and smells.
A large, rusted spring pulling it tightly shut
when stretched, erupted in metallic pings and twangs
every time it opened, seeming to protest.
Then, with a clap and jarring of joints,
the matter was settled with a shout.
With anchor dropped, I cast ashore - penetrating deep into enemy
territory. I crept silently up on the fortress and stormed the barn-
like castle portico, dueled foes in battle, and vanquished evil
warlords. Marvelous bravery, courage and honor won.
A wire looped over the top brace,
worn smooth by sliding into position day after day.
Weather and sun had turned it gray -
the ashen look of age.
I heard the thundering of applause
as I took the field for the final game of the World Series.
I had home-field advantage. I knew every clump and patty.
So real, the crack of bat and the slap of leather,
as everyone vied to be champion. No fence too high as I swung
my bat with a strained grunt, then ran with fire in my feet. I felt
the joy of the conqueror.
Cracks radiated from a single knot hole.
Small fissures spread along the grain.
Most of the cedar post's shaggy bark peeled
and hung around the hinges.
The smell of summer hung like rose-perfumed air
that oozed into pores and lifted me dreamily along.
Lying on my back, lazy clouds drifted over -
smoke signals from foreign lands calling me to action.
Along the ragged top,
gaps and torn edges lined up as uneven teeth,
gnawed on by a succession of bored horses.
Arched necks stretched to reach untouched pasture,
leaving behind threads of hair tugged loose, stranded.
Night fell... eerie sounds came from the dense aboriginal jungle
as headhunters played hide-n-seek
through endless wire-like vines. I narrowly escaped
impenetrable stands of woods, tight as fences.
Stealth and quick thinking delivered me to safety.
Yet, all drew me homeward
as Mom's voice called me.
A never-ceasing joy flowed in every thought.
Hunger forced itself into my imagination
fatigue slowed my progress.
I made my retreat through My Passageway,
guarded fiercely by the creaks and groans,
and then abruptly slammed shut at day's end.
Summer 2017
