Reliving Upside Down
by Odin Roark

The Jungle Gym geodesic glistened,
Afternoon showers dripped,
Languorous droplets fell,
Saturating sand below,
Just like then.

Bench of parents
Reflected memories old,
Stroller wheels struggling,
Obstinate sand as obstacle,
Giggles and screeches
From canopy covered pram,
Bumpy ride for my brother,
His laughter, sheer joy.

Fathers,
Mothers,
Sitters and nannies,
Attentive to children’s every move.

So many eyes saw me
Atop the dome’s iron lattice,
Hanging by my legs,
Seeing the world upside down,
Shouting, “Look at me, Grandpa!”

He didn’t notice this day,
His sudden slumped body,
Dropped the half eaten sandwich
To the ground.

Part of me wanted not to upright my view,
That safety of abstract vision so foreign then,
So understandable now,
So strangely comforting then,
So painful now.

I now straddle atop the bars,
Thinking thirty-three years haven’t made it easier,
Save the bench now replaced
The sand succeeded by concrete,
The tenders and watchers now often of different purpose,
Staring at me not knowing
I’m anything but a nut case.

Some of us just discover
Life’s remembrances
Sometimes prophesy what is to come.

Some, like me, will realize
Their whole adult life is programmed upside down,
Its sophisticated induction lures escapees
Into free-for all playground-workplaces
Where capture so often comes by way of
Pills,
Powder,
Liquid
Needles.

I smile.
Swing down to the ground,
Throw an embrace to Grandpa’s bench,
Look up and shout…
“Reliving upside down moments of love is okay.
Really…
It’s okay.”