Sunday, April 17, 2016

The Bunny Hop Problem 

In 1963, or 4.
I was a little boy but I was also a middle-aged woman.
Is this still a problem?

There I was in the line 
the Spring Pageant! of the grade school,
classes over and at last this happy, nervous
excited 2nd grade class performance to do for everybody. 

I was there! in the fresh, clean, combed-hair line 
with all the other bunny hoppers onstage
in our matching blue and yellow shirts and pants
the other bunnies waving at their parents
the summer about to start and 
the future wide open.

Then I saw my mother, glaring; sour, better, sarcastic
(my mother, as George Carlin, or a priest)
at all of it.
We made eye contact, and I fell right in
to the role
not the bunny role
and I said, about the pageant, so they could all hear, 
especially her: 

"Well, THIS is dumb."

They all heard it, especially her
and she approved of it, 
like I knew she would. 

I was still in the bunny hop line 
and all the way out of it too. 

But Summer began, even though the other bunnies
heard me, and their futures were still wide open.
Mother took me home. 
To our sour but a little smarter
apartment; Hamburger Helper, Kennedy
books, dead relative photos on the wall and 
bug spray in the air. 

So, hop like a bunny
with the bunnies, or
sleepwalk the syndrome to 

Is this still a problem? 
Oh baby, let me count the ways. 

But my nose is twitching like a bunny rabbit. 
And the mother? With the Kennedys.
The bug spray got her. 

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