Children came from the whole block to write on the magical wall. They could draw whatever they thought in crayons, in pencil, in lines or in dots.
They smiled about their accepted rebellions— never getting yelled out for being hellions. Parents chattered in the next room. Kids did whatever it is kids do.
Purple grass and blue whales in the sky— robots eating playgrounds made out of pie. Imagination Station! Last stop! Kids pour in like sugar into soda pop.
Grab your markers, brushes, and pens. Draw squiggles and giggle about your private little sin. The adults aren't tuning in.
Then, after the train moves all the passengers out...
I'm the last one left, but I get the biggest shout.
My picture, too real. My house, too ugly. My daddy—
