Poem: Autobiography

I was born before my father could park the car

my first words were, “I want to collect all of it!”

I took a pocketknife to kindergarten for show and tell, and couldn’t

understand why the teacher was upset. Mum was too. (But she still gave me the

milky bar later). I always hated family photographs. Hated posing. Can’t smile.

Won’t. Don’t. Not sure how. But a …