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Boy in a Box

Charlie found a box. He loved the box. I broke down the box and threw it on Thanksgiving morning before our guests arrived.

Charlie was angry. Elysha told me he nearly cried.

I get it.

The one and only poem I ever published was about this very thing, inspired by an afternoon spend on a muddy hill with a large, cardboard box and my friend, David Dunne.

Save Your Money Next Time and Just Give Me the Box

Thank you Mother,
for the red, aerodynamic toboggan
that I found under the Christmas tree this morning,
with it’s chiseled runners and
precision steering wires.

But Mother dearest,
in the future,
please know that I have found nothing more exhilarating
than a steep, muddy hill
and a sturdy refrigerator box.

–  Matthew Dicks