Sometimes you want to stomp
on the circle of the cycle
of this whole crazy circus
and squish it into something
flatter, with sides and angles
and corners you can knock
your knees on and get
your bearings even if hurts,
but since there’s no way
to get yourself on top,
you just pump in more air
and keep rolling around again.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
Poetry When It Comes 