In Your (Our) Face

In your face.
I will remain in the race.
There is no disrespect
but just what you expect.
Sometimes we stumble
and sometimes we mumble
but we can twirl a star
at as distant and far
as we can imagine that far;
hold down the tent
it will rain and rumble
and many of us will disappear
into the clouds of despair
almost as quickly as frogs
from distant ditches and bogs.
The world translates us
differently and without fuss.
I still try to corner love
and fit into my working glove
but moments are moments
as burials are monuments.
Circles are sometimes smaller
than we need or call for;
we live in circumscribed
bottleneck dreams,
or so it often seems
though few of us feel bribed;
We know our tribe.