Perhaps it was the
I remember the bus stop by
the brown field
Empty no man's land between the houses
with a couple of small
How old was I in second or
third grade? Nine years old I
suppose
Maybe eight
houses down from ours maybe
less
It's all so hazy
Those two small trees in
that dry, strange, empty space
unwanted, un
They were simply there, not
far apart from one another
teasing me with their
purposelessness, their
purity
Perhaps it was
Sometimes, often even, I still
want to do the wrong
very wrong
Things are so murky now
What was I thinking all those years ago?
Certainly as a boy all of my worst
inclinations were un
Fantasies consumed
I had super powers
Rules didn't apply to me
Nobody new about my secret
identities, but
I wanted to brag to
Be appreciated
Life in
my imagination was
So exciting
that I simply had to tell the other boys
at the bus stop
to convince them that I had access to other realms
Supernatural control over the universe
Certainly over a little tree near the bus stop
Perhaps it
I summoned demons from another dimension
to burn that little tree little
by little
very early
every morning, long before anyone normal awoke
I would watch flames born of comics pages licking
And when the lower branches began to blacken
noticeably with burn marks
I felt my secret
Feigning innocence, but speaking excitedly
about arson at the bus stop
and the possibility of alternate dimensions full of fire
demons
All of the boys certainly mentioned the little
tree's gradual, daily destruction
at home, and I was too excited not to
Perhaps
I was so sure of my cleverness
Speaking, feigning ignorance, innocence, un
to my mother
Something terrible and strange is happening there
I said
There's an arsonist, I suppose,
all we
know is
that the little
tree
is being
burned up slowly
What should we do about this?
What can we do about this?
What can we do?
What? So
horrible
Acting
was not my super power, or
perhaps my mother's super powers were stronger
despite the vastness of my imagination
She was awake long before anyone normal awoke
waiting for me at the door
to another dimension, the portal
to powers and forbidden
I stood there a fool, holding some comics
pages and matches, feeling revealed, stupid,
pathetic, un
Oh... Oh...
Oh.
the thrill of it.
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This is a great story of innocence and daring rolled into one. Love your tale. Did your tail burn as well?? :>)
I plead the fifth!
🤡
:>)
In enjoyed this and it reminded me of my own childhood super powers. I suppose truth be told, many little arsonist have fled off into anonymity.
my problem is that I might still have super powers 😉
🙂 And I might still be on the run.
Mama’s aren’t stupid, lol. And it seems she knew she needed to be constantly on her toes. Shame on you! I am so un impressed.
yeah. not the proudest moment of my life…
ben, this is a beautiful poem. The imagery; the memories, our transformations, the way we judge ourselves. Excellent execution.
hi! thanks 🙂
for some reason your comment went into my spam folder so I only just saw it.
you know, this was very much a stream of consciousness… I was trying to bring back memories, but a lot of it still remains in a deep fog.