Seek the inner child
she commands.
SUMMON him?
He doesn't
await invitation
lurking just beneath
my consciousness
waiting to
embarrass me
in the most public places
at the most inopportune times.

My inner child
is a mischievous child.
Talking to her about
the serious business of
introspective
therapeutic
self-authenticating
alphapoetics
he leaps from my mouth
and spouts silliness:
eyes
voice
hair
aroma.
This inner child
is a daydreamer.

My inner child is an
attention starved
over stimulated
shameless exhibitionist.
I watch helplessly
as he unravels
my carefully embroidered
existence