i grew up as the mayor
of a city i dug out of the dirt
around the jacaranda
in the schoolyard.
sometimes i’d collaborate with friends
and we’d build empires together.

but, mostly, we fought
over supplies and land;
we couldn’t stand it when
one had more than the others.
we flung seed pods as cannonballs,
shrapnel out of leaf litter,
even planned secret raids,
but the aggression only turned
our bright cities to dust.

the most valuable thing i’ve learned
since becoming an adult- perhaps
what separates me from that childhood-
is that the most devastating weapon
against feelings of inferiority
is verbal reason,
and that’s not to say aggression makes
us children, but
i think we all have little cities.