Counting back, 100, 99, 98,
My stepfather over-ruled my
Mother and bought me a Monarch
Bike; so at 12 I could ride for
The first time free of
Her oversight where counting
Forward was not an option.
Two years later he
Encouraged a philosophy
Student and fellow church
Member to talk me
Into a better view of the world.
Instead I told him the
Multitudes of my thinking.
Ninety-five, ninety-four -
I woke hearing an antagonist
Daring me to apply this furious
Energy to mankind's good.
So remembering only that from
My nightmare, I took
Up the challenge
Of his presuppositions. I made
A point to stop there and
Wait. Let whoever keeps
Track go ahead. I'm weary
Of the frenetic nights of turmoil --
Rewriting the scripts of every
Remembered word and deed
As though I'd have a chance
In another life to do it
Right, or the courage
To step out in the sureness
Of a cadence-count
Drill instructor who
Has no double mind.
For this little while
My mind still reeks of
Multivariate forces forming
Webs too bedraggled
To break apart and form a simple
Life; so if that's all there is it will
End in peace. If not, then war
