INSTEAD

Once upon a time

a story ambled along

like an invalid,

dined like a castaway,

shat like a parakeet,

and labored like a leaf blower.

Somewhere at the center of it all

was a pipsqueak person,

captive to his own mangy creation.

Pay no attention

to the fabled construction, I say.

Listen, instead, for the beanstalk in the bean,

the goose inside the golden egg,

the hero in the ordeal.

Anything else would be like

rooting for the rival team

at a home game.