In first grade Mrs. Lohr
said my purple teepee
wasnĖt realistic enough,
That purple was no color
for a tent,
that purple was a color
for people who died,
That my drawing wasnĖt
good enough
to hang with the others.
I walked back to my seat
counting the swish swish swishes
of my baggy corduroy trousers.
With a black crayon
nightfall came
to my purple tent
in the middle of an afternoon.
In second grade Mr. Barta
said draw anything
he didnĖt care what
I left my paper blank
and when he came around
to my desk
my heart beat like a tom-tom.
He touched my head
with his big hand
and in a soft voice said
the snowfall
how clean
and white
and beautiful.