The Death of Guidance

My cardinal rule flew away and

something in the fluttering wings

made me feel okay.  Just like that

time my mother took my brother's

rubber band gun away, and said

"It's too dangerous for you kids 

to play with anyway."  Stones and

twigs, earth, ice-balls, scooters-

they were all okay.  Without this 

guidance I kind of wish something

would find this sorry existence 

and lead it far away from anything

dangerous: love, sex, drugs, and

alcohol.  For now I find myself the

constant companion for all too

frequent visitors.  If that bird

that my brother got with his

sling shot and ball-bearings ever

flew again, I'd be surprised, but

those little red cardinal wings

fluttered quite a lot before death.