That would be me
and anyone else over 3 feet tall
who has a whistle.
“Hey guys, just so you know,
my name’s Mrs. Collins”,
flashing my cartoon-y fish
logo with my fancy-ish name.
“What’re your names?”
“I’m Atticus, this is Zeppelin.”
“Well, those are some pretty big
names,” I remark, and proceed to untangle the playground snafu.
They saunter off while I muse about
the challenge of the names
they are saddled with, embattled with
in the spelling from K through twelfth,
and I wonder what parents–
readers of classics?
rock and roll fans?–
would do that to a five year old,
giving them, not a name to grace them
or fit well but letters too many
to spell when you are five
and all you want to do is play on the swings