I laugh sometimes
when I think
of those days
wishing I was more
grown-up
and
believing I was
when I saw Vera and Pauline.
The joy
bubbles up
when I see in my head
drying painted fingernails
in an open window
then falling head first
in a sand filled ditch.
Laughter was easy then because llife was good.
I hadn't lived long enough
to have really real pain.
Making daily visits
to get the mail
from the mailbox 
that I couldn't reach.
Mother said 
"I need to know where you are,
if your daddy should ask,"
And I said, "Okay"
and went anyway.
Or when I finally got my brother
Who cried waved his hands about ------so
I wrapped a tiny fist  
In his blanket --- and
what I did next i can't explain.
While wrapped in the blanket,
I bit his hand --- and
He yelled even louder.
When asked what happened
I told the truth
"I bit him,"
and mother thought
an accident?
My reply was a big fat "NO"
"I bit him on a purpose."