so many rules, as we grew, hemmed us in:
don't shout, don't run, don't cuss, don't blush, don't flower.
now we must be encouraged,
like so many little birds,
to fly or soar or sing, or other foreign things.
now our mothers prod us angrily out of nests;
now our fathers sigh and take a drag of their cheap cigars,
blue smoke and the smell of tobacco
filling the living room and our memories of home.
now the world takes us in hand,
bends us, or breaks us if we are unlucky;
rends us, tears our hopes and hearts into jigsaw pieces
for the men of our generation
(who were raised loud and brassy, fast, secure)
to puzzle into shapes of their own liking.
now we must be encouraged,
and we are barely able to break open our own shells.