I’m coming out of my old church. It’s 12:15. Soon I’ll toss off my bow tie and go out and play. I feel guilty that I hate church--I hope God understands that play is more fun than worship. Doesn’t God get enough worship? Even my dad at the factory gets a couple of breaks each day. That heavy red hymnal, how I wish it were the Mamas and the Papas. I’d sing “Strange Young Girls” with Mama Cass who I’ve never met but adore. It’s easy to adore from afar. I don’t know any strange young girls. The ones I know seem pretty normal. Lori likes Barbie and has the dream house. I pretend I’m Ken when we play—a handsome surfer, not a boy who can’t multiply. Monday beats up Sunday. School. How do we know the Earth is round? I don’t know. I’m ten and feel that I could easily fall off of it.
Kenneth Pobo has a new book out from Duck Lake Books called Dindi Expecting Snow. He won the 2019 chapbook contest from the Poetry Society of Alabama for Your Place Or Mine. They will be publishing it next year. His work has been published in or forthcoming in: North Dakota Quarterly, Atlanta Review, Nimrod, Hawaii Review, Illuminations, and elsewhere.