When I was in 4th grade. my teachers
thought there was something
wrong with me. They sent me
to the school psychologist. She had skin
the color of mayo
and wore lipstick
like it was a garment.
She had me play with these
with a fake brick pattern on them.
There were just enough so that you couldn't actually be satisfied
with anything you formally constructed.
I have no idea
what she could have been writing down
while I crafted
small scale cubist versions of armored transport vehicles.
My homeroom teacher promised she'd buy me
a candy bar
at the end of the week
if I was able
for 5 days.
I don't remember her ever buying me anything.
I remember that week that my friend Debbie brought in some pornographic cartoons she found in her basement.
I remember writing a paper on "Facts about Granite".