Like Monopoly. Because you always ended up landing on Boardwalk
where the red hotel meant you owed two thousand dollars
and all you had were mortgaged railroads. Or like checkers,
because really, what was fun about moving small plastic disks
diagonally and hearing the other kid say, “King me.” And soccer?
Only because your mother made you because she wanted
to be coach. You did want to play school, but no one else did,
so you were the principal, the teacher, the student,
giving yourself homework, grading it yourself. Writing in red
in your best cursive at the top of the page, “See me.”
You didn’t want to play basketball, because no one else
ever chose you for their team. Even though you were tall.
And you were chosen last for volleyball, too. And t-ball.
And Red Rover. And dodge ball. Is it any wonder your favorite
way to play was to visit the junkyard and find treasure?
Or to walk along the lake to look for flowers and worms?
Is it any wonder you learned to love playing alone
in quiet rooms with an empty page and a pen?
There was no way then you could have known
that it would save you—no, you just thought
you were playing the only way you knew how,
walking through the only doors
you knew how to open yourself.
Although I was raised and still live in the UK, and I’m small of stature, so much of this poem resonates with me, especially the last 9 lines. Thank you for this wander down Memory Lane, Rosemerry, and the reassurance it gives of not being alone in feeling out of place or on the edge of things, Because isn’t that where writers and poets tend to notice things that others might miss? 😉❤️
thank you, Joy … with gratitude for joining each other in the fringes, Rosemerry
Those last three lines describe my childhood perfectly. And I agree with Joy, that the Noticers are also the Creators.
ahhh, you, two. As Emily D says, there’s a pair of us, don’t tell!
autobiographical? It’s too real to be otherwise!!
most definitely! not always, but this one yes.