Alright. In creative writing class we had to write a memory poem, either earliest, happiest, or saddest. I picked earliest because I remember so clearly these evil little kids who used to hound on me for being Jewish. Their grandparents lived next door to me, and they would visit them every weekend. And every weekend I would hang out with them (because apparently I had NOTHING better to do) and they just be little bitches (if I'm allowed to use that kind of language
) So, I thought I could add some art of my own to this nice little collection you all have going on
"I Wished I Had Straight Blond Hair"
Chubby little bigots skipped
quickly down the old, rough sidewalk;
their play so stiff that it could have been
mistaken as goose-stepping,
and surrounded me with
shallow blue eye-pools and
straight wheat hair and
sucked on salty pretzel sticks
as if they were expensive Turkish cigarettes
“What are you looking at, shitska?”
the piggish little girl jeered; the one who
always chewed with her mouth open who
always made me pretend to be the boy in
our stupid games.
The glob of fat and spit that they called
a baby, continued to scream over the
wood-splitting laughter of my Nazi friends
“Your ugly face made him cry!”
spiky blond Brother Quinn spat a
loogie, reddened from cherry freezer pops, at
my bare, callused feet.
A fattened shout
echoed against the apartment buildings, calling
the German Shepard children back
like a silver dog whistle.
Comments?
