When I was about four years old,
I was playing catch with a girl named Diane.
But the mitt got lost. Her older brother
Mike, a teenager who owned the mitt,
came over to the fence and barked,
“You lost my mitt! And you better
buy me a new mitt, or I’ll punch you
so hard you’ll land on the moon!”
And I said, “But I don’t have any money!”
And he said, “Well, you better get a job!”
So I went to my parents and said,
“Mom, dad, I need to get a job,
or Mike is going to send me to the moon!”
My parents said, “Don’t be silly.”
So I explained about the lost mitt.
Fortunately Mike found his mitt, so
I was off the hook. But in my child-like
imagination, I could picture getting hit
and going flying in the air on to the moon.
Mike even looked a bit like Ralph Cramden.
But it turned out to be a funny childhood
story later on in life.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME