Boomerang

I'm not making fun of anyone,
Because my own mistakes
Are bigger than a flat-iron steak,
Leading me to keep a low profile.

So what if those brothers' stomachs
Are big as Tweedledee and Dum?
They have a right to lead their lives
Without me mocking them.

I would rather be a bird up in a tree
Than a critic on the ground,
Pointing out the problems with
That woman's choice of clothes.

If I throw a boomerang, I know
It won't go far, just circle in the air
And strike me where I stand
Seconds after leaving my hand.


©2007 Michael Fraley




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