her perfection

I was that kid

while Pippa was the other

Pippa’s dad was an architect

mother was a blonde beauty

stay at home

keep the place right

look beautiful momma

which she did just so

& Pippa read beautifully

as I’d stutter stammer the lines

& every year the lit prize went to her

though she never wrote her own

I’d hear the teachers mutter

don’t let the kid get big ideas

he can write

get above himself

can’t say a straight line

& the joy of being a kid in school

they hated Pippa & her perfection

& they hated me equally

the stammering kid

for the lack of mine

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