She bought a pair of New Balances
to get the old frame from high school.
She prodded her skin like an experiment,
exfoliated, put polymers in her hair,
and trusted soaps made from animals
she’d never heard of.

Two dragons took their waking slow
lazily slithering into sunshine, draping
themselves on rust colored mesas
yawning, they waited, not knowing
how much the world had changed
and not changed during their big dirt nap.

Charles Xavier’s sulked in his room
since matron said Cerebro was banned:
why triple the leccy bill when there’s
a copy of the Yellow Pages to hand?

Here at Spring House we provide a supportive environment for up to thirty spoiled rotten teens, with the youngest age 16 and the oldest 19, who are not yet so lazy as to require hospitalization or life support. Experiencing the emotional and physical upheavals of youth along with the cognitive and bodily failings of advanced age, or claiming they do, these teens suffer the worst of both worlds. They need help with bathing, dressing, homework, applying for jobs, getting out of bed at some point and saying a kind word. That is where we at Spring House step in.

Dedicated to my son, whose handwriting is terrible. Way worse than Little Winslow’s.