The Old Thinking Cap Days

The Old Thinking Cap Days
by Kevin Ridgeway
For many kindergarten years
I couldn’t keep my hands
off of my head
trying to get the
proper frequencies
from the depths
of unfiltered thought
for a clear transmission
my antennae pointed
straight at the heavens
while the other
tiny faces behind
chain linked fences
stared in awe
and left me to
burn my sugars off
in a furious
trumpeting up
an endless hill
of abstraction
my toys still sealed
in their packages
the television lights
on but with no
one watching
but me
writing an infantile
chicken scratch teleplay
with faceless
imaginary players
bumping into
the furniture
factory in my
sinister little
forehead store,
a front for
oddities hidden
away in the
paint-chipped
backrooms.