The Radar
Can’t fly but have flown
under the radar all my life –
or so I thought. Misdemeanors
landed unluckier fools in poo,
fools I knew, fools like me
who were altered ever after.
Still wet behind ears, I swam far
away and once there did silly
things that can beach or entangle
a turtle for what’s left of its life.
Me? Wriggled free before dying
as others got hung up to dry.
In muddle age, where I appear
beyond reproach, I engage in stuff
that can get you shot but somehow
am able to disengage, disappear.
I’m not Roman or Catholic and
you are not my Confessor so no
specifics in exchange for absolution.
Bad Influencer career calling.
With time to reflect on this run
of undeserved luck, it dawns that
my radar was On the whole, unholy
time and somebody – thisbody –
has decided to prosecute because
that’s just what can happen.
©2023 Allan Lake All rights reserved.
Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada, now living in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.