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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of a son
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.
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…
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.
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!
🤡
:>)