The Whistling Fire

I didn’t get the stuffed panda bear at the Walmart, though I screamed and screamed my lungs off.
I didn’t get a compliment from my art teacher on the purple tree I drew.
I didn’t get Suzy to go to the prom with me.
I didn’t get accepted into community college.
I didn’t get the job.
I didn’t get a cot at the homeless shelter.
I didn’t get the fucking methadone at the rehab clinic.
I didn’t a coffin, or a decent funeral, or Mommy’s tears of guilt.

© 2009 Karl Alexander Iglesias