My hands held a perpetual dawn,
the key to figuring out what’s to become of me.
When I was a scrawny-ass boy confronted by bullying Bundists,
Father sent me to an Akido school. I never was afraid again.
When I found I could help Bruno Bettleheim’s autistic kids
at the Orthogenic School in Chicago, I realized I better become a psychologist.
When we first took root in each other, I knew we would spend our lives together.
When youth is no longer on my side, I come down on the Ferris wheel of life,
listening to Whip-poor-wills of the night chirping resurrection.