the sidewalk the day the president got shot

six days away from turning nine and the president got

shot.


the sidewalk got bumpy.

on the way home, i fell over it twice.
i had never fallen over it once

before.


i don't remember the sky.


the sidewalk, the sidewalk. when did they build extra

sidewalk? why did it take five minutes

this morning and however-high-i-could-count-minutes-

that-afternoon just to get

home?


i don't remember the sky. the sky is usually my favorite

part. but i guess i wasn't looking

up.


i was six days away from turning nine

and the president got shot.


when the sidewalk ended,

it was at my house - and i went

inside. i knew i shouldn't

have.


the aroma of cookies was not

there.

my mom was crying.



i turned nine, maybe 15,
six days early


that year.