Every child of nine knows <br />the universe is a jagged shape <br />edged by home and park <br />and school and market - <br />at least that’s the way I knew it <br /> <br />and all the world’s kids <br />went to Kinney school <br />and everyone's dad <br />worked at Lincoln Park Tool <br />while mother stayed at home. <br /> <br />So my world shook that evening <br />as I speared my peas <br />when father broke news <br />that we soon would move <br />to a distant galaxy <br />at least a dozen miles away - <br />entirely peopled by aliens. <br /> <br />Well it wasn’t so bad after all - <br />my brother and little sister <br />were allowed to come with us <br />and we kept the same grandparents too. <br />New friends popped up everywhere <br />like rainbows of tulips in May. <br /> <br />The house was all fresh and new <br />but it had no lawn as yet, <br />so a rusty old dump truck rumbled up <br />and left us a mountain of soil. <br /> <br />Needing no invitation, <br />I grabbed a shovel and used it <br />moving and spreading <br />and didn’t stop 'til dinner <br />then went back and shoveled ‘til dark. <br /> <br />The pile was nearly flat <br />by afternoon next <br />when Dad came home <br />in his brand new fifty-three Ford <br />and steered it right up the driveway - <br />hitting the horn to call me over, <br />“Son I need your help.” <br /> <br />Dropping my shovel <br />I sped to the open trunk <br />and stared in shocked disbelief. <br />In a squeal of ecstasy <br />known only to nine year old boys <br />I circled Dad's waist with my arms, <br />then gratefully unloaded <br />the best yellow scooter <br />of any boy's wildest imagining. <br /> <br /><I>September, 2008</I><br /><br />Robert Charles Howard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-yellow-scooter/
