Start ‘Em Off Young

I can remember trying to catch

the screen door with my foot

before it would hit the aluminum 

frame and announce it’s having been 

opened and closed one more time.

For some reason, there was a rule 

about comings and goings and 

how many could occur.  Which, by 

the way, was never discussed 

with me.  But don’t cross the line.

“Tommy Medland, if you come in

from outside one more time today

you’ll be stuck inside the house

for the rest of the day.  You’ll not

be allowed to go out anymore.”

With the stalwart innovation of the 

explorers I read of at the age of seven, 

I thought it within the rules laid 

down that if I should need to pee 

that outside is where I should go.

And so, to the tallest of the poplars

I went.  It was the last of four that would 

die and need me to cut it down and

into pieces to burn.  I peed on it and as

the Ackers drove by, I waved to them.

And there was my one flaw.  As still today. 

In the social kindnesses expected and shown,  

with my right hand I did my business; with my 

left I acknowledge our neighbors driving by.  

Who knew they’d call?

Mixed messages.  Everywhere.  Waiting

to confound the logical constructs we

thought we knew.  Adult-speak always changing 

into something we never heard before.  

Neighbors betray us, as we wave.

It’s so treacherous to be so young!