Local Unpublished Anonymous Young Poets Chapter
One autumn Sunday afternoon when young
I drove my tricycle through the plate glass
window of our neighborhood candy store,
then hid in the garage. Barely thinking,
abandoning the scene, behaving recklessly
so as to endanger and travelling
much too fast: clearly, guilty as charged.
My longsuffering father was exasperated.
The spanking he administered was brilliant,
probably one of the finest ever received.
Now I am no longer young, not exactly,
and my dear parents are no longer able
to spank me, even though my circumstances
and actions may occasionally still be
shattering sacred glass. Thinking things
through thoroughly, remaining at the scene,
acting thoughtfully and moving slowly:
in the face of perceptions to the contrary,
still vulnerable to a verdict of guilty
as charged. No attempt shall be made
to explain or to justify or hide.
No measured responses. No social noise.
I have signed off on the declination
option of entering any final appeal.
I shall go quietly, accepting full responsibility
for the penalties and privileges of exile.
Dad, this time it's more than penny candy.
You know I'll be careful of the glass.
(anon young poet, 2011)