Misconceptions of Kiki's Youth

A hex was a two-by-four
with nails that could puncture her
tire. The Our Father talked about

King Kong coming. The Beatles
had a chicken to ride. Day
by day she jumped, a small toad,

to conclusions, Venus high
in the night sky, naked on
her half-shell. She thought it unfair

she could not step into a
river twice, which plainly would
be easy enough. Unfair

coal could never travel back
to Newcastle, old dogs hated
being tricked. Wave after wave

spoke its Japanese to her.
Wave after wave a rippling
forehead, like the world’s great brow

thinking hard for us all. That
would make her, a shivering ball
on the human-colored sand,

the brains of the operation.
And that would make the sun going
down, orange, far away across

the water, a kind of mouth.