One day you will lose control of your children
and they will belong to another world

you do not understand.  Over the holidays
you will visit your parents and your children

will act wonderful because it is grandma’s house
and that is special in its own way.

They will play canasta and eat turkey
and their vegetables and thank everyone for the sweater

and game of Parcheesi, even lending a hand to clean
the kitchen.  You will wonder who these children are

and think everything is back to normal.  But there is a boy in school
named John who will get a drum set then your son will ask for a guitar

and your daughter, your sweet little princess, will yell,
“You don’t understand me” as she walks

down the other side of the mall because
she cannot be seen with someone from outer space

if she happens to bump into her friends.  The first signs
might be when they stop playing baseball because it’s boring

or when they give away boxes of their old toys, or maybe
one morning they rise and make a fuss because today they hate

Fruity Pebbles and want Wheaties or Special K, or maybe just coffee
and cold pizza from the night before.  Perhaps they’ll sleep until lunch. 

Don’t scream when you feel your control slipping away.
It is a balancing act much like the Great Wallanda, toe to heal

one thousand feet over Tallulah Falls Gorge, the equilibrium
of life.  Don’t scream when you transcend into your new self

and your frustrations mount.  It’s late in the evening
and the church is closed, the children are still

not home from hanging out with their friends, and at home
the television casts a blue haze into the family room.