King Kong Talks About His Childhood

By Ronald Koertge

Skull Island was the only home I knew. The natives worshipped
us.
Mom would hold me up and they would bow down.

When she died, I tore up a dozen acres of jungle. I buried her
myself,
and that was tough. Now what ?

I guess I wondered what was beyond the fog that always shrouded
Skull Island, but I wasn’t about to swim out and look around.

I remember Mom sitting down with me every afternoon, teaching
me words like shrouded and asking me to use descriptive
language

in my essays. Before she’d send me out to play she’d say,
“These lessons might not serve you on this island, sweet pea,

but maybe on another. There’s always room for a well–rounded
individual in any society.”