So she sat still and quiet
As an unexploded bomb.
That's a poem called "Sit Still," by JonArno Lawson, from his poetry collection Think Again.
Here's a conversation I had with my sister, secret codename: Apocalyptica the Flimflammer, early last week:
Me: I have my third trapeze lesson in a few days. I'm so nervous!
Apocalyptica: Oh? Why?
Me: I keep having these flashbacks to junior high, when we were picking teams for gym class, and the kids picked me last every time, week after week, for years on end.
Apocalyptica: I know what you mean. It's like pre-calc for me. You find a thing that's hard for you for some reason, and it colors your sense of your own capabilities for the rest of your life!
Me: Exactly. And the funny thing is, looking back now, I don't think the reason they always picked me last was because I actually was bad at sports. I think it was only because they hated me.
At this point, Apocalyptica and I began to laugh hysterically, because thin…