I need...Stranger Danger

I often wonder
If the rest of my life
Will be like one of
Those rusty playgrounds,
Where the bouncy, plastic  
Animals don’t really bounce
Unless you push really deep and hard
With your heels
And the metal swings squeak and rattle
As though swinging violates violently
Their oxidized, brittle bones
Going to split in half at any moment
Or slip into the mud puddle
That never dries at the bottom of the slide  
Surrounded by sand clumps of cat
Urine
and odd sprouts of untethered weeds
between the cracks
of everything .
Right now.  
I believe,
Well,
That’s me
Unless I find
A New sun,
Brighter plastic,
A lover
Who knows better
How to weather
These uncouth blasts of winter
Winds