I said she said okay,
But I hadn’t even asked.
Lying to Grandma,
that’s how much I wanted to,
I’d even lie to Grandma.
The project courtyard had fenced in grass,
no larger than a tiny garden or
a tiny prison cell,
And that day it was covered in snow,
smooth, unbroken, clean snow,
like in Alaska or some mountain somewhere.
I clenched the bars of the fence
and stared in
and wanted to so badly,
just a step,
just to enter into this tiny wilderness,
right in the middle of Queens.
“Mom said I could,” I said
That was my lie to Grandma:
“Mom said I could go in there,”
I wouldn’t fit.
The bars were too close together
I was a skinny six year old but
I was too big a human to fit.
I wasted a whole lie,
and Grandma told,
and I got punished.
But I already was punished,
and the fence kept the wilderness safe
from humans like me.