Presently...

Presently…not quite now, in due course, approximately, you’ll know the moment, it never comes,
In the entry it comes…between high sentried houses, exiting a low rear doorway, in standard shadow,
Greet the leering little suckling, to its face within the cherished pram, high hooded from the wind,
Wheeled on puddled concrete worldward in solicitation of shifty adulterous uncle Sam, the shaman,
Divining all ahead in silent inward judgement the slipless field in distant view, in fear of focused face,
Hey pushy well meaning mother, don’t play mind games, said the child’s enigmatic dewed eye,
Uncle Sam has a mind overflowing with next step notions, motioning to within the view,
The quick step, leading, a step ahead, bounding gracefully to a trot, the talent of all but a few,
Baby knowing notions is not daunted says, truly I’ll not always be mild and meek,
Something Sam cannot abide is riled infant cheek, so loins he lays bare and takes a lengthy leak,
Hey bud, says baby…spurred on by baptismal spray, this bloom will grow and have its day,
You’re a mere bud now babe, says Sam, a sapling, rooted, an abstract slice of life, not the whole deal,
There is only one place for you, a lowly skitter, under my instep lifter stiletto heel.