Stuck in the middle
Between hither and nigh
Rock and hard place
The present and past
Squeezed in vices jaws
You simply can’t breathe
There’s that thing over
There that once was
Sweet comfortable and succulent
But has now soured
And this thing here
Plump exciting and promising
Cautious teasing and playful
Turning away from one
And towards the other
Causes a hearts thunderstorm
Cold and warm fronts
Colliding and me the
Kansas town hunkering down
Hoping for the best
I had a conversation
With myself yesterday
In the form of
Another maybe a younger
Different me with the
Same swagger and slowly
Rising beads of confidence
He wants what I
Now have and upon
Hearing that I wept
And hearing myself say
To this other version
Oh you will lad
Oh yeah you will
Sitting on a tray
In a cold case
People point and ogle
Think and wonder and
Sometimes yes often no
Like men in bars
And puppies in pounds
Or flowers in fields
All knowing that we
Are something something more
Than we appear to
Be if they’d only
Pick us and see
It’s always a surprise
When soul’s finally reconnect
Having been cast randomly
About like dice thrown
And skeetering off tables
Or bars declared cocked
And forced to do
Over souls really are
No more than dice
Thrown found and read
Nothing when just one
Yet something when paired
Or more with similarly
Found ones like themselves
And like a willow
Or a river birch
I found my self
Rooted and simply standing
Often and at times
Victim of the wind
Which wound and weaved
Through the years limbs
And every so often
Men would stumble upon
Me in search of the
The river in which
They swam I drank
Throwing off their clothes
And splashing and diving
In and beneath me
The river their baptism
And me their comfort
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 