the shapes of the clouds…
and I just assumed everybody
else saw those grinning-grilled
headlight-eyed faces in the
front ends of Fords and Chevies
too… yeah, I was taking it for
granted that my peers had also
discovered ‘Bucky the Beaver’
in our cartoonish classmate,
the half-pint, buck-toothed
bumpkin in bib-overalls…
See, in my world, blackbird flocks
were jack-booted biker gangs;
dragonflies... the helicopters;
the steam shovel, a T-Rex-- and
me…? well, I was Roy Rogers.
How was I to know, back then
that I was suffering the
symptoms of Acute Poetic
Myopia, ‘the Heartbreak
of Metaphorphosis’