Throwing Words

When I was about eleven,

Mr. J. gave me a job throwing newspapers.

Rather than riding a bicycle

I rode in a car,

rolling papers,

banding them, and

pitching them onto the driveways.

My job was to keep a steady supply

of rolled-up papers but "not too many,"

while my boss and I

tossed them out the windows.

He also instructed me not to throw

any papers if the house was vacant.

I didn't know what vacant meant;

I was too afraid to ask.

Once we had to stop because

I got behind on rolling newspapers.

He was irritated with me; and he

complained that I was throwing papers

to "vacant" homes!

When the route was done,

I was paid seventy-five cents,

and informed I was not needed anymore.

After my first day on the job

at the tender age of eleven,

I was unemployed.

From that day forward

I never had the desire

to be a paperboy ever again.

Throwing words

out to vacant readers

and running short on words

made me unfit

for the newspaper business.

But with my former editor-in-chief,

well, he had a way with words.