Sinless 

 

If intent 

to do 

harm 

is key,

they harm 

when need 

be; 

to preserve 

their life.

Provide 

abundantly 

for themselves 

and myriad 

others

if left be.

Mutualism 

is 

without guile.

Blameless 

and free,

happy 

in uncertainty.

 

 

Before Wisdom Etched Its Lines In Our Faces 

 

Mom was in her heyday,

I was in Minneapolis,

quaint Edina,

“Roots” and the 

“Odd Couple”

were on T.V.

Beyerly's sweet 

and sour chicken 

wings delighted 

our palates,

Christmas, as it 

should be, most 

still alive,

took us to 

its Holy Land,

taking the 

morning 

cheese bus 

to Edina East

high school, 

still dark 

in winter 

twilight.

Bicentennial Year,

“Rocky” and 

“Marathon Man”

on the screen. 

Mom agreed to 

walk ten feet 

behind me 

entering the 

Eden Prairie cineplex 

theater - so my 

high-school 

compatriots 

would not see 

me out with 

Mom.

Everything 

was fun and unique 

new for she and I 

following 

the divorce.

I was sixteen.

She gave me 

a home perm 

on my long 

1975-76 hair 

vowing adamantly 

never to do it 

again.

The Christmas tree 

from Hell tipped 

over three times 

while we were

decorating it 

supernaturally 

flinging red satin 

globes everytime

eerily to 

far corners of 

the room

so we could

barely find them.

A special chemistry 

we had, she and I,

happiness as it 

should be. 

Mother 

and teenage Son

alone together 

experiencing 

life in the 

Big City.

A Winter Carnival

indeed.

Mom's drinking 

wasn't yet a 

problem, back then.

We were young, 

beautiful, and 

naive; time was 

yet to test us.

Simple and free 

in Mother-Child 

harmony. 

She was 

on her own. 

I was 

with her for 

an entire 

school year 

back then.

We both 

awaiting 

things 

we'd learn 

to know 

and live 

multifaceted 

and stark.

 

© Randall K. Rogers