In the time it took
For the weeds to grow
The holes in my shoes grew twice their size.
I danced nightly to sounds of crickets and their friends,
The watercooler talk of
Bushes under the cover of dusk.
I traded kisses for compliments
With a boy who was scared of the dark
And wished for the
Rain to not arrive on time.
They never could tell me how the grass grew,
They said they didn’t know.
I learned to read then;
Out of stubbornness and uncertainty
Armed with chalk, I wrote my destiny on pavement
And let the rain erase a hard day's work.
A fresh canvas for the next day,
Reveling in the impermanence.
I picked bouquets for myself,
And talked to butterflies more than friends.
I sang to the radio that played through
the kitchen window
Until my voice didn’t even sound like mine.
I sat in a bed of grass and
Watched my nurturers, my women
Cook a meal that smelled up the whole village.
I smiled at the post man and
The mormons at the front door.
I loved their stories of a man who watched me from a cloud.
We spoke through a tall fence
A fence which seemed to keep me safe.
The backdrop to a girlhood
Not even a “For Sale” sign seemed to weaken.
And yet here I walk,
With no holes in my shoes.