Monday, July 9, 2012

Memories: Second Grade

What to write about?  This is a question I find myself asking every damn day.  I want to write about common experiences in an uncommon way.  I want to take the ordinary and make it come alive on the page.  I want to take those little moments that touch us, that we remember for unknown reasons, and try to unfold them, to coax from them some meaning, something tangible. 

To that end, I have recently begun attempting to compile a list of all of those moments from my own life.  It is my intention to draw inspiration from this list of memories, to use it as a source of writing material in between the less interesting parts of my life.  The poems drawn from this list will also serve as a sort of quasi-autobiography.   They will act, much like this blog, as a means of preserving my experiences for future reflection, which is something I enjoy greatly.

As I was writing the following account, I realized that it had a kind of poetic sound, which was not my original intention, however, I liked it and decided to stick with it.  Enjoy!



One time in second grade, upon returning from recess, I stood before some classmates – whose names I can’t recall – telling jokes and poking fun at a kid much larger than myself.  He shoved me as if to say, “Back off!”, and as I fell away I tipped his cap onto the floor.  And in my laughter I barely noticed him recoil in anger and punch me in the stomach. 

Bent over, smaller than I’d ever been before, I stood grasping at the air as if to say, “Come back!”, and my cheeks drew warm, unwanted tears like a damp mattress.  The audience crept near and whispered a maternal, “Are you ok?”, as the echo of a fist rang even further in my belly.

In a moment I stood up, and all the nets of reason fell away and no one could be heard to say, “Stop.  Think.”  With one crude swing of balled up flesh, I laid him down beside his cap as though he were asleep.  I didn’t stay to count the seconds that elapsed; I knew it wouldn’t last.  I grabbed my damp, discolored books and hurried out of class.

Minutes later, standing on a toilet in a bathroom stall, quiet as a mouse, I heard my fellow classmates talking of my act, a tale much taller than I felt, having pissed all of my words away, and replaced them with fists.

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