As kids we'd play
beneath a summer sun
that turned
the pitch
between slabs of laid concrete
on minor suburban roads
into soft globs
malleable enough
to scoop out and
use as makeshift glue
to adhere icepop sticks
end to end
in triangles and squares.
These we'd toss to one another
in absence of Frisby or paint *** lids.
There were less cars those days
and none complained
to a bedraggled clump of kids
***** ***** but up to innocent clean mischievous play.
Digging up parts of the road we'd all eventually leave by.