Glen Armstrong
LEGS
Everyone remembers me.
As the boy with the crooked legs.
Though I could barely write.
My name.
I drew excellent kegs.
Of dynamite.
I stayed up every night.
With a flashlight and a pair of dice.
From the Yahtzee game.
I had a crush on the number five.
I had a Felix the Cat.
Without a head.
That used to contain bubble bath.
The right pair of pants.
Straightened certain things out.
I wore boot-cut jeans.
Two sizes too big.
With a belt and they would whisper.
About my legs.
Rather than point and shout.