My First Backpack
© Surazeus
2018 10 11
My first backpack I ever wore to school
still contains the debris of my childhood
where it crawls somewhere in dark silent woods
still attempting to flap its broken wings
and follow me where I wandered off lost
somewhere far down the signless road of life,
for it hopes to return my innocence
I threw away with my Superman cape.
The math book where I drew new superheroes,
such as Owl Man, the genius scientist
who invented way to soar between stars,
science fiction novels Star Wars and Dune
about rebels against powerful emperors,
comic books about sexy Lion Girl,
and porn magazines I stole from my father,
are still stuffed in its hollowness of hope.
Pencils I forgot to sharpen, notebooks
crammed with half-done assignments, rubber bands
I fired at heads of friends from finger gun,
pen caps I pretended were sleek space ships,
pages of weird alphabets I designed
with grammars for languages of wood Elves,
and maps of Ranika, my secret world,
molder forgotten in every side pouch.
My first backpack my mother bought for me
still lies where I dropped it on river shore
when I saw three boys from the high school grab
arms of Mary Louise, the girl I loved,
then tore her dress and pushed her on the ground,
so I grabbed the biggest oak stick I could find
and howled at them, swinging wild, till they fled,
laughing as they gunned their car down the road.
Still trembling in rage, I helped Mary stand,
then covered her nakedness with my coat
as I helped her walk home without a word,
but when I knocked on the door of her house
her mother called the police who cuffed me
and locked me in jail till my father came,
and he whipped me with his belt till I bled,
but I lay in bed and dreamed of her eyes.
They let me out when she explained to them
that I protected her from brutal rape,
so three days later I went to her home
to find out if she was doing all right
but her mother told me she hung herself,
then sobbed and slammed the red door in my face,
so I never went back to the dark woods
to find my first backpack full of lost dreams.
© Surazeus
2018 10 11
My first backpack I ever wore to school
still contains the debris of my childhood
where it crawls somewhere in dark silent woods
still attempting to flap its broken wings
and follow me where I wandered off lost
somewhere far down the signless road of life,
for it hopes to return my innocence
I threw away with my Superman cape.
The math book where I drew new superheroes,
such as Owl Man, the genius scientist
who invented way to soar between stars,
science fiction novels Star Wars and Dune
about rebels against powerful emperors,
comic books about sexy Lion Girl,
and porn magazines I stole from my father,
are still stuffed in its hollowness of hope.
Pencils I forgot to sharpen, notebooks
crammed with half-done assignments, rubber bands
I fired at heads of friends from finger gun,
pen caps I pretended were sleek space ships,
pages of weird alphabets I designed
with grammars for languages of wood Elves,
and maps of Ranika, my secret world,
molder forgotten in every side pouch.
My first backpack my mother bought for me
still lies where I dropped it on river shore
when I saw three boys from the high school grab
arms of Mary Louise, the girl I loved,
then tore her dress and pushed her on the ground,
so I grabbed the biggest oak stick I could find
and howled at them, swinging wild, till they fled,
laughing as they gunned their car down the road.
Still trembling in rage, I helped Mary stand,
then covered her nakedness with my coat
as I helped her walk home without a word,
but when I knocked on the door of her house
her mother called the police who cuffed me
and locked me in jail till my father came,
and he whipped me with his belt till I bled,
but I lay in bed and dreamed of her eyes.
They let me out when she explained to them
that I protected her from brutal rape,
so three days later I went to her home
to find out if she was doing all right
but her mother told me she hung herself,
then sobbed and slammed the red door in my face,
so I never went back to the dark woods
to find my first backpack full of lost dreams.
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