You used to sit
on the cross beams
drilling holes through
for the wiring

circa 1965
on some building site
where Clifton
had left you

with the tools
for the jobs
he wanted done
hand drill

screwdrivers
hammer
chisel
and enough electric cable

to reach
the North pole
in the background
transistor radios

were blasting out
pop music
Bob Dylan
the Beatles

The Rolling Stones
and here and there
other guys
plasterers and painters

and bricklayers
all doing their job
when and where
they could

and you wondered if Clifton
would remember
to pick you up
after work or if

you'd have to get
the bus home spending
your own money
which he seldom repaid

(the tight ***)
but sometimes
you thought of Judith
and what

she was doing
and whom
she was seeing now
thinking back

to the  days
when she was yours
the bright days
the days you spent

by the pond
(which she
called the lake)
the kissing

the loving
the sun over
the pond
making shadows

and bright places
or the days at school
on the sports field
after recess

her words
her wisdom
her bright eyes
and smile lingering

as you bored the hole
in another cross beam
yours hands aching
from the constant turning

and Dylan singing
Blowing in the Wind
from some transistor
across the way

another hole to bore
another boring day.