I’ve always liked
lined paper.
And numbers in
ledger columns,
the soothing green
of a bookkeeper’s world.
The soft blue of
school notebook rules.
It is an unexpected

It’s not how I usually
am, being the one
whose cardinal sin
was sitting sideways
in my desk.
The one who couldn’t
do the typical things,
who never went to
camp, or lived
in a dorm.
Who couldn’t hold
a straight job,
even when I tried.

I can’t wear clothes
with collars or cuffs,
I cannot handle
the confinement.
I never knew how
to pass, to know
how to act as though
I cared what
most of the world
was doing.

I’ve paid the price
and taken comfort
where I could.
It’s not that I don’t
abide by the rules,
but only ones
I can understand.
Or haven’t tried
to curtail
my naturally
chaotic ways.

I like limitations
that serve,
that foster growth
like a well pruned
bush, a strategically
placed trellis.
And not the ones
that kill, that
try to make a tailing
rose into a bonsai.
In fact, I cannot
stand bonsai
at all.

But I like each
day to sit &
write, my
large hand
sprawled out
with plenty of
room, gently
guided by the
wide ruled
paper of my
school composition
And once a week
the meditation
of numbers.