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Trying Hard To Play Well With Others

 
who the hell
(What’s with the lower case?)
(It’s not full sentences.)
(Pretentious.)
(Sorry.)
(Sounds like a rant? And rants don’t count.)
(No ranting. Check.)
I mean, I often wonder
(Be specific! What person’s here, what point of view?)
By that, I mean myself, a female of this age and height and weight
(That’s not specific!)
(Gee, you think? What should I say, of “40D”?)
(Ugh, no! It’s “strip it down”, not “strip”!)
(Right. Sorry.)
But anyhow, I wonder who
(“Who, who, who wrote the book of … “)
(No!)
Who in their right or unright mind invented
(Stop right there! No one “invents” a lever!)
(Alright, yes, sure, let’s try to make it fit.)
I mean, who decided to make and distribute, because they all seem to be of a very similar design and manufacture, with wooden board and powder coated u-shaped handles that mark off seats that still don't help to keep the balance even, so  if not from the original manufacturer, an obvious rip-off of the original, the common piece of playground equipment known as the see-saw,
For schoolyards and such
(Be modern! And what time and place?)
In this, the 21st century, in this United States of Litigation,
Which means maybe they aren’t as prevalent as they once were, 
Too dangerous a toy,
Too many hurt by falling off,
(Unless they require seatbelts now, like toddler’s swings?)
Or falling down too suddenly,
Or losing teeth because some Damian child postulates and puts to practice the effect
Of snapping it up into another’s jaw.
(Which is my point!
No. Wait.  It’s not.)
I prefer swings.
(Swings? No one mentioned swings.)
(Good! Because I like them!)
Up so high,
And when a friend can push you, higher yet,
But still no higher than you could reach on your own with extra effort.
Without a friend, a see-saw stays unmoving.
(Now, there’s my point!)
(But way too wordy!
Eschew obfuscation! Cut clichés!
Dump descriptives!  Down to the bare bone!)
(Bare bones are only fit for dogs.
But hell, I’m not a wolf,
So doggerel will do.
Strip metaphor and what's left?)
*cough*
My intermittant friend,
Your push was kind,
But dump me one more time,
You’ll break my spine.
*/cough*
(That doesn’t really rhyme.
It's trite. It's boring.
And it makes no sense.)
(By now, who cares?)
(And you’ve left off that other note.)
(What note???)
(The humor!)
(Damn. So sorry.)
*deep sigh and crumples paper, starts again*
   

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