I remember when morality was simple
judged in sharing apple juice and dimpled smiles,
when before the day was up
that same boy that pushed you in the lunch line
would be the one you married in the sandbox,
and trouble was when everyone threw hard candies to celebrate
and one hit Andy Bexter in the eye and his mom found out.

I remember riding in the back seat and watching
the flowers and the pavement and then
suddenly as it all came together, crying out,
"MOM! MOM!
Everyone is their own main character!"

I remember when I hated wearing jeans because
they were so cold against my legs in the morning,
and I loved full-length lockers because mine was green and
if I climbed into it and Anne-Marie climbed into hers, we could whisper through the tiny slats.

I remember our solemn faces as
my best friend and I dropped our lunch money in the dirt and
trampled it with our tiny feet because
we knew that money was evil.

I remember when I believed in Santa Claus
and rabbits with eggs, and fairies with tooth fetishes
and ghosts in bathroom stalls, and adults always being right
and monsters living in my walls, and world peace
and the end of the rainbow
and good guys and bad guys.

"Daddy, who were the good guys in the war?" I asked, and
I got very frustrated when he wouldn't say it was
one side or the other.

I couldn't understand what he meant,
because


why would good people attack one another?