After dinner childhood parlor game

by matthew scott harris
(schwenksville, pennsylvania, usa)

help...i got caught in the past.

help...i got caught in the past.

let me take thee dear reader rabbit alas and alack
on an imaginary carpet ride whisk king ye dis family back
rheumy eyes started to water from nostalgic clack
until reverse time warp registered

late 19600's, without one kink
smooth all the way akin
to a flawless artful lettered link
no harm to any animals,
though a near head on collision with a mink

crossing the bridge o'er Tarabithia one gruff troll
nearly upended our smooth sailing thru ether with a roll
over maneuver that near went awry,
but for the amazing grace of dog a poll
lease trained pooch,
who cuz born on Christmas christened Noel

accompanied with lady and the tramp
no major plans did we need to revamp
and upon arrival at destination
received good house keeping stamp

of approval to begin playing an all time favorite
pass time (with rules adapted as needed) to hit
a high score, when at some impromptu moment lit
an unseen spark, then after determining
who would go first, (while whirling in a small orbit)
now both of us far to involved to quit

we applied “rock”, “paper”, and “scissors”
and commenced our aim
which entailed (either me or shari)
to choose other than our own class picture to claim
for the other sibling to identify the correct name

though thru countless repetitions,
the novelty did not get bland
a minor bit of concentration each of us did politely demand
of student (or teacher),
whatever kid our index finder did land

number of iterations continued, how many...oh brother,
sans gesticulating rigmarole without asking mother
father, nor eldest sister, 'til eventually every girl and boy
(from respective grade including the other)

accurately identified, than back to the future we went
after what seemed like an eternity spent
revisiting nostalgic day of yesteryear,
when upon arrival to the heron now birds-eye view
our bodies morphed aging at warp speed
thomas sister this yawping crotchety old fogey gent.

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