“Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem
And he called it “Chops” because that was the name of his dog And
that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and a
gold star And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to
his aunts That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus And his little sister was born with
tiny toenails and no hair And his mother and father kissed a lot And
the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of
X’s and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant And his father
always tucked him in bed at night And was always there to do it Once
on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem And he
called it “Autumn” because that was the name of the season And
that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and asked
him to write more clearly And his mother never hung it on the kitchen
door because of its new paint And the kids told him that Father Tracy
smoked cigars And left butts on the pews And sometimes they would burn
holes That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and
black frames And the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her
to go see Santa Claus And the kids told him why his mother and father
kissed a lot And his father never tucked him in bed at night And his
father got mad when he cried for him to do it. Once on a paper torn
from his notebook he wrote a poem And he called it “Innocence: A
Question” because that was the question about his girl And that’s
what it was all about And his professor gave him an A and a strange
steady look And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because
he never showed her That was the year that Father Tracy died And he
forgot how the end of the Apostle’s Creed went And he caught his
sister making out on the back porch And his mother and father never
kissed or even talked And the girl around the corner wore too much
makeup That made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do And at three a.m. he tucked himself
into bed his father snoring soundly That’s why on the back of a
brown paper bag he tried another poem And he called it “Absolutely
Nothing” Because that’s what it was really all about And he gave
himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist And he hung it on the
bathroom door because this time he didn’t think he could reach the
kitchen.”
