Training Camp

The future will not trip you up, catch you by surprise.
Slaps and spankings are a fence—

Don’t get out                                        

You’ll be seasoned, ready, toughened up, made
leather to withstand what could be tossed your way.

of  bounds                    

A switch? Training wheels to teach you
never blink, inhale tears

Crying?                     I’ll give  you something            

like a sponge, wringing them back as pain. Protect
yourself. You’ll come out hard,

to cry about

able to keep punching through
hurt and disappointment and move on.

What kind of  man are you             if

Childhood is training, prepping you
to stand up to what’s gonna be thrown at you—

you can’t take a knock, a punch

Who knows if you’ll catch a bullet
or a case, being a hard head in these streets?

a             yoke?

It worked for me: What other map could guide you?
Who else would prepare you for this world?

Boy—go get my belt.