When I was a little girl
The neighborhood boys
Would not let my friends and me
We wanted to flop on our bellies like they did
Making shooting noises
Then running behind bushes
Running and dodging.
It looked like so much fun.
They told Sally and Nancy and me
We could not shoot guns
And I had a gun that shot corks
I had begged for so I could play.
Bill told us we had to be nurses
And pretended he was wounded
And we had to pull him uphill
In my Radio flyer coaster wagon.
We did not fall for that
And went back to making clover chain
Necklaces, bracelets and rings
All summer long we skated
And played our pretend games.
At night we listened to the cicadas
Buzzing in our locust trees
And we looked up at one bright star.
I think it was Keats’ Bright Star.
I’m sure it was.