Just four years old, I was.
A toddler, still, but a talkative one.
The year was 1963.
A day in history
None would soon forget.
His name was Richard.
A man of many years
And much power,
Apparently.
There was a party at my house –
One that celebrated
The pending death
Of a man.
Richard was jealous
Of the man.
He wanted his job.
I said, “let’s take turns.”
And
To make a long story short,
He slapped me for saying it.
Because girls can’t have jobs.
Then another man said
“Richard, she’s just a kid.”
To which he replied:
“Don’t use my name.”
He turned, looked straight at me
As I cried.
My face stinging and red,
Tears not dried.
“She’s smart. She’ll remember.”
Years later, Richard went down
In tricky flames. Poor Richard.
I’m more than just smart.