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Literature Text
i am sorry for how id climb into your garden years ago
and steal your green onion.
i am not sure why id apologize for taking from you, because
a. you had more than enough
and
b. i didn't know you,
but, im still sorry.
i do not know if this would mean much to you,
but i thought–
of all the gardens i could sneak into, yours was the best.
you had a rainy-dark fence that would lean like a threat when
i touched it.
each plank had a spearhead and
they were all decay-black.
when i climbed it i had to kick hard while forcing my arms
straight and jam my hands onto the spears.
i befriended pain very young.
you never heard me land in the bed of your wheelbarrow,
even though i was loud about it.
i attributed it to your being old.
i am not sure why of all the peonies and lilacs,
i took green onion.
i guess at eleven, we do not think about what is pretty.
i wonder if you would have appreciated my irony.
i once cut my hand on your rotting spears when the fence
leaned too far while i was leaving.
i hit the dirt and my hands were green and red.
it reminded me of christmas, and i forgot the pain.
i am sixteen now, and i do not steal green onion
anymore, in case you wondered.
i am glad that i got to be an onion thief though,
and i am glad that i got to know you
as vaguely as i did.
thank you for my childhood.
i apologize for stealing your green onion.
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Did I ever tell you how much I loved this
cause I love it a lot
cause I love it a lot