Pee Pants

Uh oh.
There is a dangerously dark splotch-
Darker than the shade of denim
My mommy chose
To buy my jeans in.
It is slowly meandering
With no concern for my embarrassment
Wider and wider
In the crotch of my pants
Near the seam.
Please don’t look at me…
“What’s that?”
Oh. Crud.
“I didn’t pee my pants, I swear!
I spilled the milk-
Chocolate milk-
Meant for my mouth but the carton,
It slipped.
I spilled my milk on my pants but-
I didn’t pee my pants I swear!”
Nevertheless, to my utter dismay
They all converged upon me-
Pointing and laughing, screaming
With mirth at someone else’s
Mortification.
I really didn’t pee my pants,
It was my milk-
My chocolate milk-
That spilled from its carton and caused
The Splotch.
But the rest of them-
Cowards,
Pointing out another’s mistake
To hide their own,
They circled and chanted, christening me
Anew
So that through the rest of
Pre-school, grade school, high school
I was forever known by one name only,
Not Mary or Lucy or Katherine or Sue,
No.
Only one name would fit:
Pee Pants.