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Sunday, April 18, 2010

the donut

The donut

I was seven/eight years old
it was such a treat
we were visiting a market
it was filled whole streets

This was never allowed just me and dad
not unless id done something really really bad
but this time was fun
we looked at things
and tasted the food

little did i know
he was getting me in the mood
i tugged his sleeve and said
please please dad
donuts

he looked at me and said soon
first i have to take you
to a special room
remember the donuts smell
remember it well
you will rewarded
with as many as they can sell

he took me to a man
he didnt say a name
but i guess so used to it
they all sounded the same

my dad parted me with a kiss on the cheek
he reminded me what i was supposed to do
and i watched him depart
i felt like a monkey in a zoo

hours later my job was done
i walked slightly bow legged
i felt like scum
we stood at the donut van
he ruffled my hair and he said

hey my good man my daughter over there
well she sure is tired
and need a cheery up
how about you cook her twelve
and add one in for good luck

I chomped on those donuts
i relished them all
i had done
what was asked
and i swallowed and all

Hand me rounds (with Josies help)

2 comments:

  1. This is really well-written. We also had donuts used in our abuse. Thanks for sharing, Josie. <3

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