I’m not a fan of the pendulum 

The swinging from pole to pole 

The ominous ticking between the numbers 

The rising and the setting of the sun

Extreme hot, severe cold 

Have you ever seen that Battering Ram ride at Busch Gardens?

Me and my best friend used to stand in line for an hour just for 60 seconds of fun 

We’d squeeze into that old wooden ride and sway back and forth, all the way up into the sky, from south to north

Really high then really low, with the pendulum we would go 

It caused us all to scream 

I wonder now, is there an in-between

Can the pendulum stall?

Is there even a middle of the road at all?

People spend 40 years racing in a career 

To retire to nothing 

Then they get anxious and depressed 

Worse than when they worked 

We weren’t made to be inert 

Or to burn out 

I’m looking for the middle ground 

Couch potato, marathon 

Here then gone

Like from the driver’s seat to the obituaries next week 

I feel like I’m still riding the Battering Ram

Trotting along, late 30s, here I am 

Life is like that 60 seconds of fun

I hear the clock tick-tick-ticking as I write this 

I wonder if its hands are delighted 

I don’t know 

But I’m riding the pendulum  

Can’t tell if I’m high or low 

Or if this is the start or the end 

Or if I’m in a dream

I’m quiet, they say

But sometimes I do know I want to scream