Tuesday, May 2

We are the flowers

I've been busy writing a travel piece on Tokyo and going through paperwork. Going through paperwork really means trying to find something that I saw floating around a month ago and now I can't find it anywhere. So, I finally went through the mountain of school papers, returned and graded homework, notices--oops, that was in April--, and the general detritus of having two school aged children. And this was in 7-year old Bandit's folder:

We are the flowers and we speak for flowers.
that you need
Please stop killing
us. You need it to live.
Thank you
we are the flowers

I can't decide whether this is a commentary on the state of our backyard or a protest about spending 15 minutes with me at the florist the other day.
What's really running through my head is Eddie Murphy on SNL reciting "Kill my landlord, kill my landlord, C-I-L-L my landlord." But it's Bandit chanting "Kill my mother, kill my mother, C-I-L-L my mother."
Edited to add: I just asked Bandit about his poem.
He looked at me with total exasperation and said,"It's The Lorax."
"The Lore-acks by Dr. Seuss. We read it in school."

1 comment:

lobstah said...

Bandit's childhood will be forever scarred by that experience at the florist's. You bad, bad woman!