Give me the green light,
the go-ahead,
the geronimo,
the first domino in a long, long chain,
and I’ll be the second.

What I need is the affirmative,
the simple nod,
the tap on the shoulder,
the rapid wave of the right colored flag
and I’ll be gone.

I’m tired of having a good self-image,
of believing my worth can grow or diminish
by my own hand.
It’s someone else’s hand I need.

All I want is the signal,
the gun shot,
the blast on the horn,
the telling glance from that most necessary eye,
and I’m off.

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