I slapped a girl

I slapped a girl.

I was 10 years old
riding the bus home from school.
Why did you do it? they asked.
I didn’t really have an answer,
but you did.
You saw it all
from your hiding spot under the kitchen sink.

You saw the truth behind the adoption.
How she needed another knick-knack for her shelf,
something to adorn the room where
children weren’t allowed to play.
An item to be seen, but rarely touched;
a dress-up doll to signal to the world that
the American Dream was alive and well at
7321 Rozena Drive.

You felt the slow rolling of the earth
that started on Vivian St.
I didn’t like ballet, or piano, or flute.
I told ‘Miss Judy’ she wouldn’t be “correcting”
me with the yardstick in her class anymore.
Did that start the sonic booms at the dinner table?
The ones that sent the spidery cracks up the walls at
1208 Purdue Ct?

You heard the constant drone of the TV;
Days of Our Lives and The Price is Right,
Wheel of Fortune, Columbo, Canon,
The Streets of San Francisco…
Anything to drown out
the cold wet silence seeping
under the doors and permeating the rooms at
18 Princeton Circle.

You even directed our own daily game show of
Who’s Home Today?
Will it be charming mommy,
just home from shopping with her friends?
Or compulsive mommy,
exhausted from ironing the bed sheets?
Oh no, so sorry, you just won raging mommy.
Watch out! She’s been pacing her cage all day at
3407 Lakeshore Drive.

I slapped a girl.

I was 10 years old
riding the bus home from school.
They concluded that I must have seen it on TV,
but, Mr. Smirnoff you knew.
You saw it all from your hiding spot
under the kitchen sink.