There Is Something Wrong With That One
There is something wrong with that one.
I run out to see.
I look frantically, but he is well hidden
In the midst of other eight-year-olds
fitting in now
I leave
disappointed
Have you met him? He is rather awful.
I run out to see.
Hoping to meet him this time.
He is doing nothing that other boys are not doing.
I cannot choose him from the others.
They are all running around like banshees, screaming.
He is awful! The teacher tells me.
Which one? I ask.
She cannot pick him out either.
I leave again, disappointed.
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