NaPoWriMo2018: The Little Hoodlum


Many years ago, I was at home one evening, when a thin, gamine sixteen-year-old knocked on my door. It was one of the stranger moments of my life, and one which I’ve rarely spoken about.
At odd moments, I wonder what became of this girl, who would now be a woman in her early 30s.

 

THE LITTLE HOODLUM

She came to my door one night, this strange waif

Bemoaning her violent father

And her police-curfew for carrying a weapon

 

I gave her tea and a banana

And she spoke to me proudly about

How she knew Klinger’s bra size.

 

After lengthy phone conversations

With Child Services, who knew her well

Her aunt offered to take her in

 

Her having refused to take a cab

I offered to drive her

With requisite permission from authorities

 

Leaving my own small children with my partner

We journeyed south

Making small talk all the way

 

Until we arrived at her aunt’s

Who coldly declared “You can stay one night”

And then slammed the door in my face.

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