Like any proper toddler, he wants clear
distinctions: black & white and solid lines.
Our task as guides is showing him our sphere
is not that neat. Existence intertwines,
and boundaries are artificial walls.
Maturing means we live with shades of gray.
Accepting rites, obeying protocols,
make pageants while they shoo the truth away.

But recently, when cheering for the team
(“Yay Blue!” he danced, with three relieved adults),
he asked me why we’re glad, his face agleam.
And I was pleased to summarize results –
We had a bad man for our president.
We fired him for good. That’s what it meant.