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as they start to choke on what is undoubtedly some endangered aquatic bird.
People can’t believe that I’m actually only nine.
“Kids don’t talk like that,” they say, “no matter how mature they be!”
Really? You don’t think so? That’s okay. That’s fine.
It’s not my fault the most syllables in a word you use is three.
But I think I deserve a chance to show you exactly what I can do.
After all, in school Einstein barely got passing grades.
And if he can be considered the father of modern physics through and through,
Then I think there’s a chance I’ve got this made in the shade.
I’m not saying this to sound cocky, that’s not my intent at all.
I’m merely trying to stress a little point.
So I’m hoping that coming up here in the f
all,
You’ll let me skip ahead a grade in this here joint.
In conclusion, where things inevitably come to an end, I am happy you’ve let me have my say.
As I hope it will be in my ability to tend
to grow smarter with each passing day.
Oh, and one more thing, in case my subtlety confounds: don’t eat meat. I mean, really, why would you?
There are plenty of plants around.
Take a chance! Try something new!
I promise it’ll make your life profound!
IAMBIC pentameter, meet wood chipper. Wood chipper, iambic pentameter.
He stops and looks up nervously.
Motherfucker, I’ve got tears in my eyes.
Otter and me begin to clap at the same time, the two of us creating such thunderous applause that it sounds deafening in the tiny office. The Kid looks startled by the noise, but only for a moment. He looks over at us, and I see the nervousness that has plagued him since he opened his mouth slowly melt away. The smile that grows on his face is breathtaking. Jesus, I’m so proud I feel like a mom at a soccer game whose kid has just scored his first goal.
The others in the room (those that haven’t gotten to see the Kid’s interpretation of “poetic license”) are staring at him with what can only be described as matching looks of awe. I can’t tell yet if that’s a good thing or not. It’s how I would imagine people would look like after they’ve discovered a new species of bug, and they don’t know yet if it’s poisonous.
They are filled with wonder, but it’s cautious.
Tyson doesn’t seem to notice any of that, so I guess it’s okay, although it doesn’t stop me from shooting glares at all three of them, which they recognize and begin to clap politely. I didn’t know that Seafare was the center of the poetry universe to allow them to be such snobs about the whole thing.
Jerks.
But it’s enough, and Ty’s courage returns in full force and for the next twenty minutes, he speaks, sliding page after page off the stand, laying out each and every bullet point that Otter and I had read over and allowed to stay in, not knowing it would be the Kid presenting them. There’s times he veers off on random tangents (“I would also like to implement a student council that could assist the faculty in moving this school into the future; to start with, we need to go green, people. We only have one Earth. I think new leadership is needed to bring about this change. But please don’t think I mean my administration to be a dictatorship. You, as the paid staff, would still be allowed to provide what I’m sure is your valuable input. This isn’t Cuba, after all.”) and times that he gets preachy (“Did you know that thirty cows are slaughtered somewhere in the world every two hours? How is that fair?”), but in the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s obvious he’s thought this through, his master thesis on what it means to be the Kid. If anyone ever again asks me how he can be the way he is, I’m just going to have him give a repeat performance, poem and all.
