The Wasphouse

This was to be a book, a
collection of pieces
about my childhood
for my kids, nephews and nieces.

But by the time I figure out how that's done
and get it into print
I would forget everything I was thinking of
and it would all be a faded squint.

So I decided to put all that stuff here
if I can remember and find what I've got
And it's all called "The Wasphouse,"
In honor of my big brother Scott.

"Scott? What? What's he got to do with a wasp?"
Well, I remember and may be the only one
to remember the shed behind the house
with waspnests all over the ceiling, 1000 more than 1.

It wasn't really a playhouse
and now it's no longer there.
A dilapidated old rickety woodhouse
full of tools, oats for the horse and stale air.

There were parts of old bikes
and what must have been
gardening and farming tools, and things the likes
of which I'd never seen.

I can't remember all the stuff I saw in that place
or which things were really there.
But I do remember the feeling of the smile on my face
and that all of it, even the scary waspnest ceiling, was cool!
I didn't care!

Scott and my sister, Anne, I recall,
though I remember he more than her,
Dared me to eat the horse's oats, "Eat 'em all!"
They were actually, as I still remember,
pretty good like stale cereal and sweet!
For the life of me, I couldn't figure why
this was a 'dare' and not a treat!!

And then there was the electrified fencing
or gear that was there for that stuff.
I was dared, once again, "Hold this! Touch that!"
I decided to call his bluff!!

I grabbed a hold, I don't remember a shock.
But I remember being scared like hell
when I saw a spark connecting my legs just below my - knees.
That made me afraid and I ran. I didn't tell.

Yes, so I blame it all on my big brother
this weird imagination of mine.
O'what would have happened if I'd told Father & Mother
and he'd gotten in trouble and then towed the line
instead of doing what he did best ...

... playing in The Wasphouse beneath all those scary nests.

- JM