Literary Yard

Search for meaning


By: JD DeHart


The lawn used to look bigger,
and the tree over the hill was miles away
I was going to grow up and marry
a famous actress and have famous
little babies with faces much nicer than mine
We would live in a large manse
in a vine-covered wood, separated from reality
by distance, time, and perhaps a fence,
living a world where men make money
by scribbling words on pages and little else
Heroes were real and possible, and people
Were basically good or evil (it was always
easy to tell the difference), and virtue
was guarded while vice was tsk-tsked
by everyone Godly and decent
I suppose we forget how simple to world
really could and should be, distracted
by car horns, scandals, and our own pulsing
desire, the gray walls of uniformity
closing in like a cloak, the bank teller leaning
forward, always, saying, You are out of funds.


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