i didn't have to worry about getting an a-plus on my history report

so that i could please mommy and daddy

all i had to do was watch sesame street and danger mouse

until it was time to go to sleep

or, instead, i'd stay up and hide

and watch cheers and roseanne and murphy brown

from behind the couch where mommy was sitting and watching, too

and i usually didn't get caught

(like i understood those shows at three, anyway)

and if i wanted approval i could look cute

and sing my a-b-c's

and get a hug and a hershey's kiss

and the big paint blob on the newsprint

was a masterpiece, similar to those of da vinci

and i was praised for being able to read

dr. seuss

and i didn't have to read romeo and juliet, huckleberry finn,

or little women;

i'd still like to be reading one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish

while sitting on the gigantic blue sofa in my old living room

while mommy made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich

and the only thing that i had to worry about

was being forced to eat broccoli

who invented growing up anyway?

it seems like a great, painful punishment

for having a good time