Kids they come

Kids they come to eat, to jet in and out -
dragging clothes behind their dolled up outer
wear, or boys with necessities of chill, hanging
on for speed, dialing in games, performance
based eating, dawdling about in blue, gray
they swallow, they seem healthy states
of knowing parentage.

But give them space for deciding important
topics, peanut butter, jelly, jam for dolls given
caringly to girls to stay and drink tea, teacups
for houses, though small, stylish, painted pink -
often it is for housing soup, bending in ways,
splaying across furniture, slippery noodles,
they seem satisfied with fries.

Happy meals, happy dancing about the floor,
to see another toy, unhappy with mine, or not
to be dragged about as though marionettes
twiddled about, dangling feet, hands as they
make messes, the best advice for parents and
darling demons, though in silence they proceed
as angels.

It's about time for grilled cheese, American, styled
to butter, crisped and delightful, melted, like on
pizza, that shows handsomely a style of scarfing,
talking more than eating you do, glued to games,
to cells without the need for greens, broccoli,
cauliflower, celery; it's time for best pratices and
another gaggle of kids.

© 2015 Larry Ingram