Little Man Poem by robert seminara

I remember when I was three.
Can you?
For me it's easy.
My parents stopped being mommy and daddy that year.
They were now just daddy.

Daddy worked, and Tony the neighbor babysat.
Tony lived upstairs.
That year I was tall enough for tea cups at the fair.
My feet still couldn't reach the Big Wheel peddles, but soon that wouldn't
matter anymore.

I have an older sister, Alice.
She lived with mommy.
I got daddy.
And Tony got me.

I remember the two girls sitting on Tony's couch.
Laughing and laughing.
I was naked.
I couldn't hide.
I wanted to run, anywhere!
Tony was too strong.
Even for daddy's little man.

Things are very different now.
Now I'm almost even stronger than Tony.
.
Now I'm a killer.
An expert.
I win awards for it, medals.
These foreign lands don't scare me at all

Oh, I remember three like it was last week.

A year ago, Alice and I had an argument over my "life choices"
With her wisdom she yelled:
"You had every opportunity, same as me! "
"Mom and Pete made sure you had everything you needed
to make something of yourself."
"They didn't beat you; you weren't molested."
"What's wrong with you Ricky? "
Then...
"Oh, you remember that? "
Of course I do, I was there wasn't I?
"Me and mom thought you might have forgot."

Sometimes I do forget.
Then the meth fades, the heroin will fade,
and I'm back on Tony's lap.
I'll hear the laughter of
Ugly girls.
How they cackled and yelped like hyenas.

When I hear them, I kill them with my expert aim.
But things are different now.
No one laughs at me.
They don't dare.
I only wonder sometimes,
is it hard for every man to be naked in front of his woman?
But it's probably nothing.