Biking Experience
My mother told me,
Go straight to school,
She let me ride my bike,
I am nine, round-faced,
And a little bit chubby,
The creek is on the way,
After the rain the water runs fast,
Just a few feet below the street,
I can go down there to play,
Plenty of time,
I can see my school,
I really am on the way,
The bridge is not high,
Only curbs for sides,
There’s a path down the bank,
I park my bike on the bridge,
And climb down to the water,
Only planning to stay a minute,
But books in the bike basket are heavy,
And the bike topples over the side,
My books with it, too.
Into the fast flowing water,
Panicking I try to save them,
But the effort is wasted,
They’re wet and ruined,
My best book landed,
Where water is deep,
And I cannot reach it,
My shoes and socks are wet,
And trying as hard as I can,
I can’t get my bike back up,
The steep path to the road,
I sit down upon the bank,
Feeling sad, mad, and stupid,
I wish I could disappear,
I can see myself reflected,
A fat little girl, crying by the creek,
Ashamed of being me.
Other kids come by and laugh,
I hide my tears like I always do,
I shrug, and I laugh loudly, too,
Desperately I make fun of myself,
Before and better than they can,
Because it doesn’t sting so bad,
When I’ve beaten myself up first.
Help comes with exasperated sighs,
My mother is called from her work,
She takes me home and hits me,
Hard and stinging on my butt,
It was just a spanking then,
And everyone totally approved,
My mother must pay for books,
And she said it will take our money,
Because I am stupid and bad,
I don’t want to ride my bike,
To school anymore,
Because things can happen,
And it is not fun,
After all.
