Privacy Poem by Francie Lynch

If I want you to continue reading,
Then I must be truthful and forthright.
That's my decision.
And I'm good at deciding stuff.

One time I decided to change
My mailing address, have my mail
Redirected for a personal reason.
Another time, I decided to impersonate
My brother in court.
I didn't say all decisions were good ones.
So, allow your imagination to comply as I tell this story...

Did I mention I've a very active imagination.
More profound than my decision making skills.

There's a young boy, on the verge of adulthood,
aged twelve, and he often stays out all night...

Okay, I'll tell the truth. The boy is me.
But you probably already knew that,
Didn't you?

On arriving home one morning,
He comes upon an unusually locked
back door, but he can hear the TV and
the dog whinning. The Mercury is idling
in the driveway. The trunk ajar...

My imagination is messing with the truth.
There is no open trunk, but the curtain blowing
Out my parents' main floor bedroom window is true.

The idea of my having a key to the house is silly.
That would mean eight keys with kids that know
nothing about locks and keys. We were free to run,
uninhibited, all adventure, no phones, little radio,
and a TV that hardly ever worked. So, no key. To my
right, I notice the frill laced curtain flapping out my
parents' bedroom window.
Open? Do I dare?

I've always been known for my recklessness and lack of foresight.
So I turned towards their window..