It was a day much like this,
grey, with drizzle,
my mother took me visiting,
which was a big event –
She didn’t drive a car,
seldom went out.
How did we get there?
My father, perhaps, who
worked in a bank nearby.
He must have dropped us
by this large white house
with grand pillars.

 

I can’t imagine why
we were wanted there
but I met a boy my age.
I suppose that was it.
Get the toddlers together,
ready to learn to play.

 

I assessed the toys,
and took my pick,
a brand new trike, and
oh how it went,
as shiny as it looked.
My new playmate ran crying
filled with envy and
complaint
Me wants the bike.
Me wants it now.

 

I stopped. The wheels froze
on the rug as I looked
at my foe
“ME wants the bike?”
I felt the sweet pleasure of
superiority, the first ache
of it, age three.
There would be no contest. I
could play as long as I liked.
I had him by the pronoun.
It was the happiest day of my life.

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© Grace Cavalieri, all rights reserved