I was 3 once.
Peanut butter and celery.
It's morphing time!
Grass tasted like
Splenda (before I knew obesity epidemic.)
Liking someone was just wanting to be around them.
I don't like you,
She smells like eggs.
Mommy and Daddy don't like each other
They still live in the same house,
But the air is heavy.
Rebellion isn't v-neck t-shirts that
Smell like a car full of teenagers
at 1 AM. It isn't sad and
bloody bedroom sheets when the parents
aren't home. It's whining
Why Daddy, why
Why does that man live on the street?
Why do his clothes fit in a shopping cart?
I don't understand.
When did we stop questioning?
I'll show you mine, you show me yours.
It's okay if you don't know everything.
So why does that man live on the street?
The obvious answer:
He does not have a home.
Does that man live on the street? Why
not me? Why
Can daddy come home with red lipstick collar and
A lipstick red corvette? Why?
Don't answer that.
Or Are we better?
Is that how it's supposed to be?
Is that right?
What is right?
Don't answer that;
Learn to avoid direct hits.
Bad or good.
Wrong or right.
That's all 3 understands
We can't keep them,
Snatches of bright green snagged in hair,
Forgotten puddles of cherry flavoring #47.
They are the future.
They'll be 5'8''
And they'll have pain and
Joy in one ascent.
Then they'll let themselves
feel the sweat of a hot pork roast
And say I was 3 once.
Keep watching an old man speaking monosyllabic,
Don't roll your eyes!
I know mommy is the woman you
love morer than anyone.
It's true dear,
Boys have cooties and
Syphilis is a Pretty
Princess who finds her Pretty Prince,
If you'll promise to never
To never have to glance at a circle
Of small people with your face and say
I was 3 once.