Being Grown Up Often Is Not

Being Grownup Often Isn't

Is this all there is to being adult?
Why had I expected a saner result?
Why do some people convince me
there aren't any set ways to be,
no traditional expectations either,
so I question my own cosmic ether?

Is my carriage or muscle tone
as definable as nerve or bone?
And would one expect or know such,
or is it assumable until real touch
reveals and creates actual feeling
which, contrarily, sends it reeling?

What exactly did we learn as kids
that when lost puts us onto the skids
so we must question every other?
Any adult to adult knowing another
experiences the whole realm of mind,
and I'm confused by what I find.

People I care for are as insane
as some of the most social urbane
because they mean as little as often.
Few and rare are those who soften
the issues and dilemnas of life,
those few who cause no one strife.

But as a child I expected it of all.
Adults were grownups who didn't fall.
Grownups knew how to well behave.
Obeying them made me feel a slave,
and now it still bothers me some
that so many are so damn dumb.

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