People always ask me:
“How do you memorize all of that?”
And the truth is the first girl I ever kissed, tasted like tomatoes.
And I know this, because the second girl I ever kissed tasted like pepper.
It wasn’t unpleasant.
It’s just that I was expecting tomatoes.
When I was a kid I was fascinated by space
And I learnt that time slows near a black hole.
Inside a black hole time stops altogether.
Whether or not this theory will ever be proved,
I’m moved to believe this would be the perfect place to love someone.
In grade 4 my gym teacher gave me the nick name half-ton.
It was a name that stuck.
I remember it, because it was the first I ever told someone:
“go fuck yourself!” and meant it.
He quit calling me the name after he called my house
Trying to get me in trouble for what I’d said,
To which my grandmother replied:
“Mr. Shithead, I told him to say it.”
I remember my grandfather’s blue tool kit,
Where he hid a secret stash of raisins.
I recall thinking: “My granddad has the worst taste in candy.”
But he did teach me how to tie a tie.
My first opportunity to apply this knowledge was my first date,
A seventh grade class mate, who showed up wearing acid washed jeans and a Def Leppard t-shirt.
I wore a suit and tie.
When she asked why I was all dressed up,
I told her: “My other clothes smell funny.”
I am not saying it ended badly,
But she wound up leaving me for a boy,
who could make farting noises with his arm-pit.
I’m forced to admit - he was pretty cool.
My fourth grade teacher had a rule about speaking out of turn.
Failure to learn and practise this lesson
would result in having to sit outside.
I know this, because I’ve tried it once.
When she finally came out to check on me, she asked:
“What was so important, that it couldn’t wait?”
Knowing that it’s rude to point,
But needing to illustrate my position,
I gestured to her chest and said:
“Your boob is hanging out.”
She quickly covered up and corrected me: “Breast.”
She was a good teacher.
When I was twelve, I was given an academic diagnostics test.
Later the instructor informed me,
YOU ARE READING
The Works Of Shane Koyczan
Poetry"Im not the only kid who grew up this way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones. As if broken bones hurt more than the names we were called, and we were called them all." Warning: Not my Work
