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Flashback... We'd spent all day In "the fields" Not twenty yards from the whitewashed cemetery fence posts Floating and then burning Paper boats on a muddy puddle in a depression in the dirt Phillip and Chris scored some Skoal From Danny or Billy, I forget which... It was "long-cut" We try a bit...putting it in our cheek Like the big kids did The Skoal making a strange and potent tea from our spit The smallest amount of this tingly elixer is swallowed- and it's over. I lose my lunch. I am yawning in technicolor. Chris and Phillip laugh and laugh.   Then Phillip follows suit barfing on his shoes Chris gives him an arm punch, with a smile. I think Phil and I were both done with chew. There was never a shortage of things to do here Under an old barnwood board, was a magazine with glorious pictures that made us feel strangely isolated From one another We would memorize each line, each curve For later when each would be alone With the Sears catalog and some tracing paper. We made single line trails for our bikes With banks and jumps Chris was the daredevil of the bunch He would take a new ramp at top speed His little brother would too Sometimes with drastic results Concussions and broken bones. *There's a chain store now in the spot we called  "the fields".  It used to seem vast.   And now it looks small. But that is the past. Memories. That's all.*
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
driving through my old neighborhood past "the fields"
Flashback... We'd spent all day In "the fields" Not twenty yards from the whitewashed cemetery fence posts Floating and then burning Paper boats on a muddy puddle in a depression in the dirt Phillip and Chris scored some Skoal From Danny or Billy, I forget which... It was "long-cut" We try a bit...putting it in our cheek Like the big kids did The Skoal making a strange and potent tea from our spit The smallest amount of this tingly elixer is swallowed- and it's over. I lose my lunch. I am yawning in technicolor. Chris and Phillip laugh and laugh.   Then Phillip follows suit barfing on his shoes Chris gives him an arm punch, with a smile. I think Phil and I were both done with chew. There was never a shortage of things to do here Under an old barnwood board, was a magazine with glorious pictures that made us feel strangely isolated From one another We would memorize each line, each curve For later when each would be alone With the Sears catalog and some tracing paper. We made single line trails for our bikes With banks and jumps Chris was the daredevil of the bunch He would take a new ramp at top speed His little brother would too Sometimes with drastic results Concussions and broken bones. *There's a chain store now in the spot we called  "the fields".  It used to seem vast.   And now it looks small. But that is the past. Memories. That's all.*
East Henrietta Road, 1980
Brotherjimmy
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Brotherjimmy
M
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
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