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Array
(
[sid] => 33870
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Hand-Me-Down Kids
[time] => 2004-02-04 20:04:08
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Hand-Me-Down Kids February 4, 2004 It was the best of times, It was the worst of times. We grew up together, In the same city in the same school, In the same sort, the same class. We were both poor, with a missing parent. Mine was from drugs, hers from abuse, But together we were, together we knew. We both watched our moms, Clip coupons, and super glue soles from Payless Shoes, Because the rent money we paid, Left us with just enough for food, And not new shoes. It was the best of times, It was the worst of times. Dinner was often mac and cheese or eggs, Simple, fast, and cheap. What we were given, Was not always to keep. We remained friends for some years, Playing outside on hand-me-down bikes, In hand-me-down jackets, With the other kids. Barefoot, til darkness fell. We played and played, Our imaginary games, Until we were remembered and told to come in. I had two siblings, She had none. I had no parents, She had one. After bed time lying tangled in sheets, Through the walls I could hear, Visitors coming through the screen. They walked past my room I shared with my sister and brother, Into the room on the other side my parents occupied. And then it got quiet with the occasional cough, Some mutters and laughing as I drifted to sleep. The mornings were mostly the same every day, My sister getting me awake and ready for school. I remember this one part of my childhood, Just like it was yesterday, like yesterday... Each morning we went to my mom laying in bed, And shook her and tried to wake her, But she lay there like the dead. We screamed and we yelled, we said: Mom! Get up, take us to school! But she lay sleeping, and I, I was a fool. Looking back I’m not sure, If my sister knew at the time. I just thought my mom and dad were tired, I did not know the truth. In fact I never really learned it all, Until one day in class when I was twelve. A program called D.A.R.E. every Tuesday, Was a dread for me... I’d been taken from the world that once was home to me, But every Tuesday when the officer came to my class, I was taken back to that world without even being asked. I watched videos and saw facts, Of what and how my parents did all of that. Surrounded in kids who knew of Fisher Price and Gap, I knew it was a secret I had to keep, A secret I kept from them, and from me. It was the best of times, It was the worst of times. Almost like one long bad dream, Living there, on that street, Walking down the sidewalks covered in men, On each corner dealing drugs, And I was only six years old, Passing them looking at the ground, Going to the liquor store on the corner, Buying some milk to carry home. My careless parents never thought about me, About what might have happened, what I might see. As if I woke up one morning, In a whole new world. My friend was gone, my hand-me-downs too. Next thing I knew I was living like you, You are the girl in my head I wished I could be, And now looking in the mirror, I saw that was me. I had friends who lived the same way, With two parents, tutors, and the little things. The little things that made it real, Like orange juice every morning, chalk on the driveway, Markers on the floor, and no lock on Grandma’s door. It was the best of times, It was the worst of times. I began living in the land, Of reason and rhymes. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 189 [topic] => 32 [informant] => calista [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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