Beyond Golden State
(for anyone forty years young)
Goose-egg, be gone: you’re not going to pander
to Thomas no more. Decidedly old,
calculus dribbles the length of waxed floor,
drives a new alchemy into fool’s gold,
takes rather makeshift shots for the gander
to live in relief, with goslings galore,
my myopic dream: ruling the roost ’til
I’m fifty or more, putting an orb through
a hoop not errantly worth knighting for,
paying the piper self-levied bills. You
have reason to question wherefores and will,
daft premonitions to prove I can score,
and there I’d tend to turnover the ball—
a few moments more (what anyone needs
to get back on D) to freshly ignore
it’s only a pastime jealousy breeds….
Maybe the game needs such geese after all:
golden egg baskets to bring to the store.
Daniel Martin Vold
Lamken (2015)
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