Poem: I Never Did Get My Garfield Phone!

A poem about my childhood trauma. Which — clearly — wasn’t A LOT!

That’s the extend of my childhood trauma,
if forced, that’s my spicy memory. I wanted
a Garfield phone — to go with the books,

wall poster, calendar, and T-shirt. I did get to
meet Garfield though, in what the Polaroid
picture documents as quite Lilliputian circumstances.

I was 9. And rather tall. Everyone else was four,
so therefore small. It’s like a meeting between
a basketballer,and the Shetland pony jockeys.

I’m glad I never got that Garfield phone. People
would see the picture and it would be off the hook.
But my dad likes to show the photo time to time,

of me looking awkward, dressed like I’m auditioning
to bea teenager, surrounded by toddlers, next to
some grown-ass man or woman pretending to be a cat.