Model

I am eleven
Sending off cereal
Box tops to get a model
Of a plane which takes
Months to show up,
When it arrives in
A foot-long box
I tear it open
To find a
Thin
Piece of
Plastic to be
Rolled then latched
Into a fuselage with like
Wings and tail assembly an
Unflyable tacky useless
Model not fit to be
Hung by string
So my model
At once has
A fiery accident
By firecracker inserted
On the dirt tarmac runway
A lesson I take to heart
In life being doubtful
About models that
Come in the mail
Cautious about
Claims that
Sound too
Good or
Perfect.