And To Think That I Saw It On Kyle Place Street
today
I took a walk
past the sagging cherry trees on kyle place street
and the looming gray water tower just down the path
past the bog by the trail
and the tree house in the oak
until I stopped at my old elementary school
I peered into the window
of my kindergarten
classroom
and seeing myself there
I traveled back in time
back to sliced white bread
to limp ribbons streaming behind flying braids
to the Picasso portraits
that looked like
spoiled potatoes
to the wire framed glasses
and denim overalls
to the boy who always chased me
but ate bark dust when I caught him instead
to buddy
my pet mealworm and science experiment
that turned into dinner
for that one asshole’s praying mantis
to the walks home
beneath a cerulean sky
to an aerial menagerie
a zoo of animal clouds
scudding across the sun
back and
back and
back
memories blending together in a blue-black fog
when recalled
extracted one by one
labeled and pinned down
like feeble insects
but in that kindergarten window
I remembered
they were so much more than
a glass display of fossils
because in that house with shuttered window eyes
nestled between towering trees of brilliant reds and oranges
(I will always remember it in autumn),
a small girl with mousy brown hair
and purple wire glasses
hid her nose in the paperback confines
of other worlds
and if you didn’t look closely
that might be all you saw on kyle place street
instead of
the universes
inside of her
with each papery wing
she soared into new galaxies
leaving kyle place street behind
the first page
waving goodbye to her home as it fluttered open
no longer was she merely a girl
in a gray turtle neck
and black-buckled mary janes
but a warrior warding off dragons with a sword
that glinted and glimmered in the dying sunlight
a witch casting spells and brewing potions
exploring the shifting staircases
and forbidden corridors of Hogwarts
a spy carefully analyzing her targets
wary of the constant possibility of a nearby enemy
a tesseract traveler
traversing the wrinkles in time and space
a girl gazing into the abyss of a rabbit hole
and wondering about the wonders inside
a centaur standing in the pool of a lamplight
in a world beyond a wardrobe door
toting my umbrella and parcels
when her mother dragged her by one hand to swim lessons
she forgot her swimsuit and too-tight goggles
and donned her scaly tail and seashell top instead
when forced to clean her room or fold her clothes
she transformed into a maiden locked in a tower
or Cinderella, desperately racing to finish so she could dance away to the ball
when confined to her speckled gray desk at school
she was a time traveller from the past
scribbling away furiously
paying ardent attention in order to teach her ancient people
when she teleported back
the forest
with its vines reaching for her
tangling in the backyard fence
was no ordinary forest
but one teeming with beasts and giants and elves
one where she could build fairy houses beneath the trunks of trees
that stood like shrouded giant legs outside her window
and evade the snapping jaws of the crocodile lurking in the burbling creek
each summer
her family’s sail to the San Juans
revived the dreadful Black Eyed Jill
the scourge of the seven seas
who scowled from her stance at the bow
and scrawled maps in the sand where they anchored
to recall sights of buried treasure
I saw myself in that kindergarten window
and watched as my reflection grew
the girl in purple glasses
shed the ribbons in her hair
and traded mary janes for chuck taylors
the knot between her eyebrows deepened
and the darkness in her head rustled its dusty veined wings
sometimes she stopped looking for the animals in the sky
and slowly she forgot the beasts melting into the foliage
their eyes somber as they disappeared once again
limbs becoming knotted branches
voices the sigh of leaves in the wind
now the real monsters had come out to play
they leapt from the pages of her books
into the halls of her school
the fragile walls in her home
the face staring in the mirror
tearing at her
claws that bite and rip
until pieces of her shed like paper
scraps of her life floating down like paper mache butterflies
where once stood a girl
a pulsing cloud of fluttering white
she wished things could be as simple
as they once were on kyle place street
she had forgotten
she was the epic hero
of her own life story
how could she be?
she had no divine powers
no Athena show her the way
but even Odysseus made mistakes
and the weakest can still brandish
a sword of some sort
for she had virtues entirely unique
and her books were Athena’s in disguise
she didn’t just read
no
she sailed the wine dark seas
she skipped down the yellow brick road
she strangled a demon with her bare hands
she lit a fire in the shadowed belly of a whale
she journeyed thousands of miles
as a thousand epic heroes
and then
.
she was home
and to think she saw it all
on kyle place street