Rope
You are young and you dream,
All alone in the dark,
Of a sun in a different land.
Your parents think it’s another trend,
And you’re going to college next year.
But the rope is held taught,
And you’re not getting out
Of this trap that your atlas laid.
You have places to go in the brilliant light
Of many a blue foreign sea.
So while they hunt for
New summer jobs,
You will be packing your bags.
And all alone on an airplane,
Calmly lulled by a rocking train.
Feo.
