I don't know your winter hats
I don't go to your school
I don't see you from September
To the end of June

But I know how you row a boat
And how you scrape your knees
And we know the best train tracks
For squishing all our pennies

You're the better swimmer
You're the better dancer too
You always win at badminton
(But I win at Taboo)

Share our favorite movies
On those dank and rainy days
That make us feel like thunder
As the skies are set ablaze

I know your mom, I know your dad
I know the dog you used to have
I know the cottage makes me glad
Cause that's where I know you.

In my childhood bedroom closet
There's a little white ledge
And I kept on the edge
A collection of the trophies I'd won.

The trophy most prized
Was a small rubber guy
That sits atop of a pencil.

Graham booth was the boy
Who gave me the toy
As he smiled a goofy smile.
He looked like a 10 year old Backstreet Boy
Not a Howie - but a Kevin. Or a Brian.

My other trophies include
- I wouldn't want to exclude -
A small piece of rock
That I got
At the Bytown Museum
In grade 4.
Ms. Lewis' class.

Graham Booth was there
(With his boy band hair)
And he told me the rock was
Quote "neat"
End quote.
Sweeeeet.

My beloved knickknacks
(Oh! And a box of tic-tacs)
Weren't the only things hidden in there.
Under the front right corner
Of the soft white rug in my closet
I kept
My soiled underwear.

There were 2 pairs of underwear
Hidden in there,
One purple and the other ones blue.

The blue ones -
Well they weren't great.
Was it something I ate?
Couldn't put them in the laundry basket
In any case.
Couldn't tell my mom
For the look on her face.
She'd wish "Could another child
Take this one's place?!
She's ruined her ******,
What a big disgrace.
Those beautiful ******,
One purple, one blue!"

So I'd let no one see it:
My closet of secrets.
Some treasures
And some other ones
...Poo.

Argue though we may,
I write "g"s like my father
And it makes me smile.

I have one grandmother
And one grandfather.
Cousin Kate has two of each.
When I was young she tried to teach
My to call them Nana B
And Dadda B respectively,
But I guess that was too hard for me
So I just call them
Nana and B.

Nana looks a lot like mom
Except she's got more wrinkles on.
And lipstick that's a perfect pink
And dog treats underneath her sink
And a silver hairbrush,
Creams for foots,
And on occasion she calls me "*****".

My B, he's from Pier-Dip-Pah-Too.
His real name's John
(My brother's too!)
And B works on the radio
And tells me things I didn't know
About boats. And on the holidays
He always serves glasses
Of Seven-Sideways.

In my family we have this tradition
Called "the annual lake freeze competition".
My aunts and uncles, they all guess
Then me, of course, then all the rest
Which day Lake Ontario
Will freeze right over
So we know
Who. Gets. The Trophy.

Nana, she records the dates
And then with B she sits and waits
Day in, day out
They watch the lake
For one fine day
When no wave breaks the ice
...and someone wins The Trophy.

(One year the lake never froze and there was NO WINNER. My dad is obsessed with Global Warming and no he always votes anti-freeze.)

Now today's my day: January 21st
And I'm so excited I could almost burst
Cause I just know that phone
That's ringing
Is the call to inform me
Of my winning.

Gasp It's for me!

Hand me the phone, Mother ,
Give it here.
Why hello, Nana!
(She says "hello, dear")
Oh. I didn't win.
Well that's okay.
B says its a gamble this game we play.
Turns out it froze yesterday
And the trophy goes to
Cousin Kate??!!

Next year I think I'll vote anti-freeze
And I'll throw big rocks right through the ice.
Or maybe my brother, he'd suffice.
It's just not fair! Kate's won it twice!
But I did get to talk to Nana and B
...and that was nice.

The text of my life
It is oft in* italics
And Roman comma Times New.
It's important you know
That I live in italics
*For standing up straight
I find hardest to do.

I roll into the restaurant
Late afternoon.
I lay out forks and knives
(I don't mess with spoons).

When I'm carrying your plates
Rock to this tune
Cause I'm bringing this check
To your party real soon.

I walk into the kitchen
And I grab your food.
I'll give you lots of ketchup
If I'm in the mood.

There's a dude
At the bar
Who's asking for my digits.
When I bring him his drink
You know I'm gonna spit in it!

No, you can't take me home.
You can't get with this.
Let's  just play my favorite game
Called "just the tip"!

Dropped your napkin?
I'll get you another.
You want some chicken wings?
I got your back, my brother!
But you gotta let me know about allergies
(Cause I almost killed a guy last week
With sesame seeds).

My boss is sittin it
In the office
Sipping coffee.
When I leave here ill take a ***
Of tax-free money.

Don't get time off,
Not a cigarette break.
I can barely pay the rent
With the dough that I make.

I am your waitress.
Take a good look at me
This is not what I had planned
For my life at twenty-three
But I'll do this for now
'Til my career shoots to the moon
But til then,

Thanks so much,
And come again soon!

Hickory dickory dock
Goes my biological clock
The clock strikes 1
An egg falls down.
Hickory dickory dock

Tick tick tock tock,
Tick tick tock tock.

I've always loved kids,
I've always loved babies.
I'm not one of those women
Who files procreation beside rabies.

I moved quickly from baby-sitting
To baby-ready

Any guy I try to go steady with
Is scared away
I hate to say
By how badly I want to be in the family way.
At bars what's the pick-up I say?
"Hi, I'm Amy. I'd like babies yesterday".
(It doesn't work so well).

Why do I want kids so bad?
Well why the eff not?
All that unconditional love
That baby smell they've got.

When preggers I could wear all those clothes
That make me look fat
But with pride.
Not hide my belly,
But place my hands like so
On my bowl full of jelly.

People would open doors for me.
Pull out chairs for me.

Then when the baby came
They'd ooh and aahh.
Smile at us laughing
On the local park's seesaw.
"Heehaw's the sound a donkey makes!"
(All the dudes reading this are like
"Girl, put on the brakes!")

But why do guys often run
At the thought of a fam?
Why should I hide
Who I really am?
My career's going nowhere.
No man sticks around.
So I'm poking holes in all the condoms I've found.
(What's so wrong with that?!)

Perhaps I'm just lonely.

I guess what it boils down to
At the end of this set's:
If I were to have a baby...
It would mean I'd had ***.