a different education

how could they know

where

we were, what we were doing

some days?

they

were dumb

and busy

with their own lives,

our parents.

how could they know

we were walking

on the ice

at the river,

or exploring abandoned

houses,

killing snakes

or carving our names

into trees

with dull pen knives.

we were

taking

the bus downtown to play

pin ball

machines

and wander the streets,

eating

eggs in diners.

how could

they know the extent of

our skipping

school

and creating a different

education

for ourselves?

far from home

all financed by

the spare change we

found

in our father's drawer.

and at the end of the long

day,

at last home,

sitting at the table for

dinner,

with smiles

on our faces,

but exhausted

they'd ask how was your

day, how was school today?

and we'd answer

just great, just great, thank

you for asking.