pendulums


like the time i was drunk
when the fat-eyed cop
made me walk the white line...
(the white line that kept moving backandforth,
when sober i'll swear to it still),
or the time i was a wide-eyed boy
when i went to see
the tight-rope walker...
(those pretty pink legs kept teetering, tottering,
threatening to fall to one side),
or better yet the time
i double-foot-faulted in the third set
and gave my serve away...
(i didn't step on the line, he said it because
my tennisshoes were green),
i am now treading a fine line,
the one they say exists
between insanity on one hand
and genius on the other
(i sometimes know which side i'm on but then
knowing makes me cross again)
and i really wish i could stay in the middle
where they say i belong, where most people are,
but real pendulums never stop
(tick - tock).

© Mark E. Dougherty