A Boy's Mind

by Dale Neibaur, 1977

The playful puppy of a little boy's mind endlessly sniffs the bases of society's signposts and fire hydrants, gleefully romping round and round the "keep off the grass" signs and madly chasing butterflies. Nothing is too small to escape notice, nothing too large to escape a chase, nothing too sacred to escape desecration. None can housebreak him; he will drag in chewed slippers or old bones to gnaw in front of even the greatest guests. And he miraculously escapes punishment; having too short a memory to hurt and finding too much joy in mud puddles to be bothered by rain.

(But I, grown at last to mongrel manhood, have learned the restraint of the leash and the swift retribution of kicks and curses. I have grown wily and quick in dodging and running, and only in sleep does my nose twitch with memory.)