change your mind at the crossroad,

though it is not apparent now

when morale is high and the birds are singing sweetly

to go for the treacherous path ahead.

zig zag, a wrong turn

means a fall off the cliff

and no ropes to catch that slip

but hey – confidence is high, the birds are flapping wings

excitedly. it’s going to be a glorious morning

that is what you say to yourself,

pep talk

already the mind envisions the prize

at the end: dopamine elevation, muse reignited, muse taking

wings flying to the heavens to catch a rainbow’s promise

and the thick gray clouds swirl about

lazily, almost deliberate

that has to be an active imagination, clouds don’t do that

do they? shrug off a nervous vibe, turn off those

distractions, head out for the open road

while the wild flowers crane in

to do a dance,

foxes with a plan decorate the pathway

with dizzy delights, take a cool aid

and remember who sponsored this event!

go about merry ways, the signs on each turn clear

as day, never been switch said the good cop

with sunglasses – it is hard to tell if he is making

a hint, then the runners came from behind,

like a stampede, noise deafening

with angry knights stomped to the ground.

ain’t a nice thing to do: and a bad cop appears

from thick grasses, handcuffs the riots

though they declared it was all fair game.

ain’t no such thing the bad cop spat,

a glob of slime slickered down

a runners forearm, yuks said another companion

who tried to break free

and got tangled by cunning traps

laid out by wise foxes.

ah thank you, good and bad cops

both gave appreciation for

capturing wanted criminals … …

and you paused at all these

commotions, but a sudden inspiration came along: roads empty now

and go for a dash, woooooooooow

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

aoooooooooooooooooo

the wind seems to uplift you, flapping wings of many birds

what a force – breathless

as you soar into the sky

and reach to grasp the silver

lining, so much silver with all these clouds gathering

as if to simply celebrate this victory,

a lightning

slices through the air,

cuts that fantasy

literally. as pieces of colored rainbows

fade to nothingness

and as for air and morale

wooooooooooooooosh

splooooooooooooooooooosh

as you land hard on all fours

right in a hole

cleverly dug

by foxes calculating.

it’s rigged,

i’m played,

someone help.

and the birds they heard, held on for a long time they did,

all that stuffed up bowels needs release: splat, splat, splat

droppings all over

with morale low,

that silver has ended with a drenched coat,

a stink, with bruises all over, not exactly

that exuberant vision – but hey, don’t beat yourself up

over it, happens to everyone, you know

these lofty dreams, these fantastical stories

it’s what children dream

when mommy and daddy need to get them to sleep.