"life"

Although the details are sketchy,
I am sure I was born.
Not the first,
That was Janice.
Not the second,
That was Nedra.
What were they thinking?
My sisters?
My parents, of course,
Were thinking a boy would be nice?
Then I was born,
The third girl, but, almost a boy.
In those days they called me a tomboy,
Because I liked to do boy stuff.
Dolls were out,
Guns were in.
Worms were fun,
And dirt was good.
My sisters tried to make me disappear,
Especially when their boy friends came,
Probably to take them on a date.
I dropped a large tin of glasss marbles,
Down the cold air register.
They crashed to the floor downstairs,
Where they were.
I Also dropped a soaped string down that same register,
For them to try to get.
They never did.
Maybe if they were lucky,
I would appear in my pink ballet outfit,
And, of course, dance for them.
Mother get her out of here!
Next, I was going to dress our cat Butch,
In doll clothes and put him in the baby buggie.
Mother get her out of here!
Now, I am sure this type of behavior,
Was caused by a rough trip down,
The birth canal! That I remember well.
You say how can that be?
Wasn't it dark?
No.
The hospital lights hit me,
Like that ball rolling after Indiana Jones,
In "Raiders of the Lost Ark."
My eyes you see were first out,
Then the rest of me.
But what really made me mad,
Was that slap!
Did I really need that?
I don't think so.
I have overcome all of this,
And am approaching the other end of my life.
When I die,
And enter the death canal,
It will be a bright light as well.
Will I remember that?
Probably.
Will I write to you about it?
Probably. By, Cara Milnor 12/19/07