Near North Avondale Elementary

I walk through the grass of the tarnished, play-worn field

Beside my old elementary school on a hot, overcast September day.

There is where I played baseball.

My coach branded me the team loser and eventually kicked me off the team

Because my mom complained during one of the games that he was being too harsh.

I cried like a baby that day.

Further on, I see the chalk lines in the field delineating the soccer pitch.

There is the old goalpost that I could never seem to aim properly at.

My teammates hated me from the beginning, and their cruel jibes

Eventually made me break down.

I cried like a baby.

These were the beginnings of a recurring theme throughout my childhood

And adolescence.

Sports and I mixed like gunpowder mixes with fire,

And I was always the one getting shot.

But that’s OK.

I eventually found my niche in poetry.

But even that makes me cry like a baby.