Why I Left Florida
One Saturday afternoon at the bowling alley when I was eight, I ran off. Shrieking with cleverness, I hid behind racks of shoes, flashing pinball machines. The thunder of balls rolling down lanes, smashing into pins, was so loud that I could not hear my mother call. When I giggled my way into the house, her head was cradled in the hook of my father’s arm, his fist slamming into her face. After all, I was his favorite. For years, they tried to make it up. Easter egg hunts in the park, home-made sun dresses, summers at Indian Rocks beach. But I still hear muffled shouts, the closet door splintering when she crashed into it. Sobbing, my mouth pressed into the carpet. Please. I don’t want to be so terribly loved.
Kathleen Tyler is a fifth-generation Floridian who was born and raised in Tampa. Since 1979 she has lived in Los Angeles, California. She teaches English and Creative Writing at Los Angeles High School.

Kathleen Tyler
The Secret Box
Poetry. Paper,
perfect bound, 74 pp
$14.95 plus s&h
2006, ISBN 0-932412-43-2
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