Brain damaged, Sounds so awful!
I’m short bus special… not even sorry if that’s not PC
Gotta laf at yourself, at life, at what we’ve been through
1966 I flew from my mother’s Hudson on to a Los Angels highway
Unable to breathe my scream silenced by the speed
I can still see the road buzzing past under me
Sanding off half the surface of my face, palms of my hands, knees and shins
Bleeding I rose up and ran like frogger dodging cars to reach the roads edge
I awoke unable to deal with numbers. My brother's statement not to worry, He could get me work as a circus sideshow freak was some how comforting.
At 4 I was young enough it all grew back damage left unseen.
It’s amazing I even function, damaged goods. I wake talking to God every morning thankful I still breath, use me such as I am.
So many doors closed when that car door opened on the freeway that day.
Maybe I could have been a surgeon, scientist, whole; instead I’m an artist
They said I would never finish school …They were right I still go,
To teach at the University most days my students linger after class
Only evidence left at 50 is my learning disability, I loose words, see that squirrel!
A lingering tendency to cry in the dark and laugh at sunrise
And uncanny ability to see things others can’t
And a half smile that makes me look as if I am up to something
And that like my red hair is just a simple warning.
Marked by my creator like the tiny poison arrow frog
I’m perfected with my imperfection
I live on to fight another day