Chicka chick A BOOM boom
CHICKa CHICKaBOOMboom
ChickachichaBOOMBOOM
says the two foot six inch blonde boy
striding across the bookstore floor.
Never once does he wonder if he sounds
weird or does he look strange or
will people at the bookstore, like me,
stare and point and say,
“Hey loudmouth kid, shut up!”
proving once again he doesn’t belong
I miss those voices: the high
nonsensical word speaking voices
of my children when they were young and
marched around after storytime
not noticing not caring only hoping
they would arrive at the Thomas the Tank Engine
table first so they could be like a boss,
only that is an expression of now, not then,
where Chick a CHICK a BOOM boom
would be more fitting.
My scattered attempt to find
kindred parents never quite
took off on those long ago
Saturday mornings
and when I wasn’t looking
my children’s tiny voices
took off, too