By Stephen W. Hiemstra
I learned to ride a bike when we lived on King Street,
but I mostly remember the wall that I ran into first.
The wall was next to a turn in the sidewalk
And it was made of brick—I simply went too fast around that corner.
That was the year that President Kennedy was inaugurated,
but I mostly remember the snow drifts that I jumped in
which were almost as tall as I was.
Dad and Mom preferred to watch the speeches and parades.
I attended first grade when we lived on King Street,
My teacher used to read us stories sitting on a chair
while we sat on the floor
wondering why she did not wear any underwear.
That was year I learned that guys were supposed to have girl friends,
but I do not remember why.
So I walked around the cafeteria table and
Asked each girl—will you be my girlfriend?—until one said: yes.
After that we played together in school and out.