Intellect’s Reward

He was a teacher’s assistant

But I just knew him as a big kid

Who hung around the class

I was a fast learner

And whip-smart

Not to brag

I just had natural brains

For words

He pulled out the dictionary

And pointed to a word

Hemophilia, I’d say

And he’d say GOOD!

Gregarious, I’d say

And he’d say GOOD!

He tried to find a word

I couldn’t read aloud

Then closed the book

Grabbed me

And said

“You know you’re reading at a college level?”

I shrugged. I was seven.

Later they put me in the gifted program

But it bored the shit out of me so I quit

It was tapped towards creative learning

And I was logical, so it slowed me

I just wanted to read and to be left alone

Not unlike now

The teacher once told me

She would put up an answer station

And let me answer questions for the other kids

Because I was always on top of the answers

When I asked her about it later

She couldn’t remember what I meant

And I realized she was being sarcastic

But I really wanted to do it

Which is why I’m a writer, in part

I used to win in around the world

I held the class record

And I could remember every minutae

About historical figures

I don’t know why

But it served me well until it cracked me up

Starting with middle school

When I became a social outcast

I can still read most any word

And I remember all kinds of minutae

I’m likely one of the most prolific writers

On the face of the Earth right now

And Mr. Visa says, GOOD!