Science Camp

The long anticipated magic of chewing those light up Canadian candies in the dark

and the zipline propelling me over the treetops and

the cutting and opening up of the squid,

soiled by my pee in my pants.

 

Seeing everybody not see me in my pants soaked wet,

knowing they see me and smell me and are pretending not to.

And also me pretending they don't see me either because I'm pretending

my pants aren't soaked wet with pee pee. 

 

Not as grown up as I thought I was because big kids don't pee their pants. 

Or if big kids pee their pants they don't let anyone deal with it except themselves. 

 

Maybe adults could go around surrendering their physcial control more.

Maybe they could pee their pants once in a while and it could be okay.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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