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Like Millions Before Me
written 04.30.1995
My mother loves me, loved me, and she watches me as I grow, as I grew, as I should have grown, and she feeds me, fed me, and takes care of me, took care of me. My father cares about me, worried about me, and he takes me, my life, my memories, to baseball games as I grow, should have grown, could have grown. My parents reject me, rejected me, and send me to my room, my prison, my cell, my grave, when I disobey them, and they punish me when I act, acted, could have acted, badly. I want, wanted, still want, them to show me the way to live, to live, to be alive. They want me, did not want me, to grow up to be a good, strong child, youth, adult, elder. Sometimes I wonder, would have wondered, should have wondered, what life is really like. My parents gave themselves, not God, not me, not Uncle Sam, the choice to bring me, take me, shove me, into this world. My mother never tucks me in at night, never would have tucked me in at night, and my father never says, "See you tomorrow, babe," never would have said it. What is tomorrow?
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