POEM: HOW TO PLAY THE GAME

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I stand on the fringe

watching

wishing I were a part

 

I am not like the other boys

with their scabby elbows,

their rough and wonderful tough talk

 

Alone I stand

afraid

 

Yesterday I tried to play

Strike three!

I left the field in shame

hedged and fenced in by put-downs and name-calling

 

Now I cower beneath the pepper tree

Too angry to weep

Yet hurting so deeply

quietly hating and resenting them

yet wishing that somehow

I could be a part

 

Is there no one to teach me how to play the game?

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© 2020 by Drake Maxwell Alexander

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