Wrong

For me, truth was a casualty of kindergarten

in kindergarten i drew a picture in crayon:

a winter day, sun bright, snowflakes everywhere.

this in fact happened the day before;

through the living room picture window

i watched, awestruck

having never seen sun and snow together.

but now, shadow over my shoulder,

my teacher, in a voice kind but firm,

said this was impossible.

but i saw it

recalling sun shining through a galaxy of white flakes,

i saw it, mickey mouse club about to start and fig newtons and milk for after-school snack,  

it happened,

but my teacher said it had not,

and i nodded.

in kindergarten,

i became

a liar.