Counting Backwards from Incidentally by David Roos

Counting backwards -- As you close your eyes
Hold your breath in
Receive your real name -- With the crickets and fireflies
On a quarter-acre of land
I am standing still -- At the center

Coming very close -- To the freezing point
But the danger remains undetermined
Well, it’s not like that
It’s not as if you can count on one primary color
On a restless acre of pavement
I am holding still, between two painted lines

I always want to be thought of as more than just a number
If I find myself standing in a long line, I try to maintain a sence of peace, a sense of calm
I like to live by my own rules
I like to keep my eye on the ball
I always know the score
If I think like a winner, I will be a winner

I am the winner, I have won the game

I like to please people
I am a people-pleaser
I like to color outside the lines
I need to play by my own rules

Sometimes when I awaken from a dream I wonder if there are actually no rules
Maybe this is all an illusion

I have just won another game
Another victory for me
Another gold star in my column

At the center
Sparks have landed on our sleeves -- So we back away
Concentrate -- On just what is in our line of sight
Covered in shadow, the ground is cool and quiet
I am standing still -- Looking forward

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