Inspired by Frank O’Hara’s “Autobiographia Literaria” and Billy Collins
When I was a child,
I cried from my hospital
bed for my parents. They
brought me a Siamese
fighting fish in a bowl.
Later, I loved school but hated
the first day, the abandonment,
the new people,
old and young who seemed
too happy to be there.
I cried then, too, for
familiar faces, and then
told everyone I was three,
not five so they would not
judge me.
And here I am, the
dreaded vice principal
all proud and poetic!
Loving the newness!
Writing!
Word Play 