Reflections on the puddle of life

From the opening two lines and in particular the "bowel-scented cabbage," my stomach knotted up and though there's nothing quite as vomit-making in this, there is detail after detail that hits home - hard. Remembering something you said recently about needing to find a bridge between your poetry and your narrative fiction, I see that both persona are present in this poem.

I'm not at all certain what "lines" in the title refers to: as in actual lines painted on the tarmac, graffiti on the walls or as in "Lines composed a few miles from Tintern Abbey"?

Prince, I take it as chalk lines of a playground, like hop-scotch, if such a game exists in Britain. On one hand this poem was a joy to read, the list of detail of a girls game and life that was fun growing up. At least that's how I read most of the poem. But on the other hand I'm confused that there are so many negative images here, espescially the first stanza. Now I'm either not reading this correctly (I'm a little brain numb at the moment) or there is some confusion. Prince above me seems to see the poem as relating a negative experience. I don't get that. Perhaps Prince is right. I'm not exactly sure.

I remember lines in the playground, boys in one line, girls in another. Thinthats pobably what fifth is referring tok

Oh, you may be right Kilt. The word chalk kind of threw me.

Gorgeous.

It's a door to another world, Fifth. I could hear the gym shoes, taste the grass, feel that knee bruise! the Lines are separating the different games on the playground, segments of memory in each game, perhaps?

but what is a 'cake shirt'? It is an interesting image.

Hey Riesa! It's reference to the lovely practices from my era, of egging and flouring peoples' shirts on the last day of school.
Actually I'd like an actual cake shirt, though it would be really difficult not to be tempted to eat it

I really enjoyed your poem, fifth! Verse 1 echoes that old feeling of school cafeteria nightmares. Enough said. And well said!

To a room with the doors and windows fast-closed,
down-headed; tyranny of bell and deadline.

I loved how you said this, very vivid.

You brought back memories of schoolyards and simpler things, a life that at the time I dreaded, but look fondly back upon.