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Poem
I never wanted to teach English.
I was shocked at her announcement
For she was wonderful at teaching English.
I know. I was one of her 8th grade students.

What did you want to do? I asked her.
You will think I am silly, she told me.
Frivolous, maybe.
No, I shook my head. I won’t. 
Okay, she said reluctantly…..
I always wanted to be a writer.

I am confused now.
Writers write, right?
There is a compulsion to it, but
Frivolous? No. Silly? Definitely not.
I take writing pretty seriously  myself.

How long did you teach English? I ask her, gently….
Thirty-eight years. Sob. Wail. Sob.
So did you write in the evenings then?
No. Wail. Sob
Why not? I asked her.
 I was too tired! She shrieked, giving me a mean face.

Okay, but did you write during summer breaks?
No. I did not think of it. Poor me. Poor me. Sob. Sob. Sob.
What about in the car, waiting for children to finish dance class?
I do not have any children. Wail. Sob. Sob. Wail. Wail.

What about at a restaurant? Did you ever write on a napkin?
No. 
What stopped you?
I never had anything to write about.

Hey, wait. You are retired. You could write now!
No, I can’t.
Why not?
I can’t see any more. My eyesight is deteriorating.
Sob. Sob. Cry. Cry. Sob. Sob. Wail. Wail. Sob.

I am rather at my nice wit’s end now.
Thinking of all the times I have written a poem
On a barrette, edge of the newspaper, paper plate,
Or sliver of a grocery store receipt 

I am confounded.
Out of ideas for her. For it does not really seem
Like she ever truly wanted to be a writer.
For when you want to be a writer, you simply write.
You write on anything you can get.
You write stories, poems, songs, and in birthday cards.
You write long and hard, and fast, and slow, and ideas keep coming at you.
Until you laugh, and play or cry and crawl away.
When you are a writer, you do not have a choice.
You cannot NOT write!

But what do I know? 
I am up at 4:21 a.m. typing this,
With no pre-thoughts or pre-plans or feeling sorry for myself
Just a compulsion to write 
For I think this is what you have to have
Plus a bit of insanity, luck, and an audience 
In order to be a writer.

Which is where you all come in, my
Peeps, and I love you for it!
Thank you for urging me on.
I will never have to wail and cry
That I did not get to live my life, 
And you are all a piece of it and
I want God to bless you, and
I humbly thank you!
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