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there was a time
when holding me
seemed of paramount importance
perhaps I was imbued
with wanderlust
and thrusting knees
were not to be trusted
to eschew danger
did I have a bit of daredevil
hidden in my angelic persona
I prefer to imagine myself
a cuddly sort
irresistible and scoopable
a young gentleman
with wiles, still raw and undeveloped
but magnetic just the same
I assume I was not above
diaper maladies at least in the early days
I had to be loveable in lieu
of that malodorous consideration
well, it turns out
all of that holding
was a good thing
it ceased or became twisted
upon my kidnapping
if one's mother can kidnap
but that is the story
the insane have a desperate
embrace
it squeezes out rather than in
and the effect is not comforting
is escape possible when one is small
if one gives all
to the pedals
furious churning little legs
can indeed go far
but large people tend to
scrutinize small people
it impedes freedom
when freedom is warranted
its denial is forever embedded
intent is only a cerebral factor
the heart doesn't contemplate
history repeats itself
it becomes grown up
so it is supposed
I guess it can be quantified
and evaluated
I've no such skills
there are stories, sure
there was a time
when holding me
seemed of paramount importance
it has always been so
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