Coco, Television

I don’t want to write out my homework,
I want to go play video games with my brother.

Send in the backups. Let the Girl’s team play first.

Growing up, we’d go for walks in the woods for hours
and it would never rain, and we could turn to the left
and head down to the beach if we felt like it.
Drop ants into the sand funnels of antlions and not feel
bad because its nature anyway.

There was always a warm spot, too, on the brown/gold
carpet in my downstairs den by the television that I could lie
on and rest my face. My brain wasn’t rotting but it was
highup and faraway. Stifling to remember what
those first, hard rules felt like.

Everything always got done, but in my time, not in theirs. I
couldn’t be punished because I barely even lived in my body,
being weightless effortless thought,
in candy-wrecked waves and coco circles,
for many lives before I was ten.