"Amish Mid-Life Crisis" (both versions)

“Amish Mid-Life Crisis.” (short version)

I saw an Amish wagon today.

            pulled by Cheetahs.   

            …I didn’t ask, but can’t help but wonder...

            whose barn is bigger.

“Amish Mid-Life Crisis” (long version)

I saw an Amish wagon,

Pulled by Cheetahs.

antiquity no immunity to anxious middle age.

Meanwhile we Irish take to the bottle -

asking for the whiskey

to accept the things we cannot change.

Some scrupulists dream of a quiet life,

yet make noise when silence makes them scared.

Thunderous silence,

disturbing to those without lightening,

whose quickening has been reduced to television,

and Sunday morning sermons.

They cannot stand the lonely voice,

somewhere between the straight and crooked,

that asks about the curves.

What if life bends beyond Euclid

and silence not… the measure of sound?

What if God gives life within?

Beyond such words as "lost" and "found"?

Hellen Keller could kick the ass of modern man,

in his pseudo comfy hell.

crippled by self-imposed limitations,

crushed by ideals and expectation,

and not just blind and deaf and dumb,

(for these the race can still be run)

but bound and gagged as well.

Sometimes, I want to blow this Popsicle stand.

Racing down the highway,

in an Amish covered wagon pulled by Cheetahs,

immune to judgment of State Police,

while the esoteric mad,

marvel at my sophistication.