The Girls on the Playground

We were all just girls on the playground.

Sometimes we traded stickers and chased boys.

After school we went to Brownies together

And did good deeds to earn colorful badges.

On weekends we'd skate around

The roller rink in endless circles.

Everything seemed so sound.

I saw one of the girls from the playground.

She had an infant at her side.

Alone, with no husband and a baby,

The look on her face was heavy and grim.

On nights and weekends she worked at the diner.

Day by day, her life moved in circles,

No beginning and no end.

I heard about one of the girls from the playground.

She was in a rehab clinic for the year.

Alone, she entered a world of dependency with

A bottle of wine and a shot of coke to get through the day.

On nights and weekends she would roam the city's streets.

Night by night, her habit moved in circles where

The beginning would only lead to an end.

I visited the grave of one of the girls from the playground.

They buried her last week but I missed the funeral.

Alone, she died a death that she controlled.

Her mother pushed her to the limit until she could do no more.

On nights and weekends she would dance until her feet bled,

Hour by hour, she would spin in circles in search of perfection.

The beginning only led to an end.

I sat on one of the swings on the playground.

Slowly, I pumped the swing until I reached the highest point.

Alone, I jumped off, hoping I would die.

My body hit the ground and I began to cry.

On nights and weekends I immersed myself in books and beer.

Minute by minute, my head now spinning in circles,

I wondered if I was sound.

- Robyn Maco

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Last updated: 2/5/96 Created and maintained by Sarah Borchers '96