Takeaway girl- poem

I want a takeaway girl,

to put in my pocket and go

visit my mother, so at last

she can stop thinking I left

because I could’ve skipped first grade,

but she sent me in the end,

just because the teacher said

it might feel weird to be so smart

and so small,

though I’ve never stopped being smart,

and didn’t grow much after all.

That’s why I want to take her away,

the girl, but I repeat myself,

to see my mother,

I’ve already said it,

the point being, in my pocket

must fit the girl, for my mother, the visit,

you know what I mean.


I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

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