ZEN AND THE ART OF THE MONKEY BARS
Diane Payne
Standing on the monkey bars,
tongue stuck to the cold
steel, the girl's fear
faded. Her classmates ran
inside when the recess
bell rang. Some chided her
for being late; but how could
she respond with her tongue
so preoccupied? There was
something profound about standing
alone on the monkey bars, staring
at one steel bar, eyes crossed, tongue
affixed, no where to go, nothing
left to do, but stand amidst the
empty playground, wondering if
she'd be missed at lunch.