"High-Bouncing Ball" by James Frederick William Rowe

High-Bouncing Ball

James Frederick William Rowe

The quarters I once begged

From a reluctant grandmother

Oft-refusing

Now jingle in my wallet

Detritus from the wages

Of the intellectual labour

By which I win my bread

Now no permission is needed

To turn the latch

To hear the clanking descent

Amidst the plastic capsules

Of its tight-packed fellows

To be retrieved by

Clawing fingers

Plucking my prize

From out the steel door

Securing what I desire

At a price of twenty-five cents

All my own

I'm a grown man! 

Poet’s Notes:  My grandma would only rarely give me quarters to buy the grocery store toys. As a consequence, my unsatisfied desire for these stupid little toys has given me all the reason in the world for me to waste my money on crappy, throwaway baubles as an adult. The reason? I'm a man, and it's my own damn money, and I can have my high-bouncing ball if I damn well please! 

This poem was more or less completed on the subway and is simple and straightforward. I revised it twice before I exited the subway and only tweaked it a little bit when I returned home and put it on the computer.

The structure of the poem is not special. The last verse is set off from the rest to underscore its declarative nature as expressive of why I actually do this. Beside high-bouncing balls, I have collected little figurines, cap shooters, bracelets, rings, and other garbage. Sometimes I give them to my students.