i wake
it is 8
i am seven
the sun floods in through the window
(late!) 2 pop-tarts and some juice and out the door in 9 minutes flat.-
r u n n i n g
recon the neighborhood. "Hey, Scott". We team up. A few of the"little" kids are out as well.
Check at Ricky's. Some sort of punishment, but a little whining and he is free as well.
More kids come out.
DIRT CLOD WARS!
seek cover
They go behind a dumpster. us, in a ditch.
we lob (never throw! ) the chunks of red clay which hit the asphalt with a puff
of puce vapor.
Some kid hits my little brother with a thrown clod,
with a rock in it.
He cries.
Honor demands a fight.
taunting , shoving,
I hit the kid in the nose and it bleeds. Crying he runs home.
(and I feel a glory Alexander would envy.)
"FELIX, COME HOME FOR LUNCH"
(5 minutes to devour a bologna sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk)
then ****** into round two. this time hide-and-seek and she . .
(the new girl ; corn-silk hair and eyes that . . ??
so i'm "it"
but even the "little" kids are getting Home
( i am way out left
because i know . . .)
- suddenly -
she makes a deerlike dash for home, but i am ready,
and like a javelin
appear between her and Home.
"you're out"
as my hand grasps her shoulder.
e v e r y m o l e c u l e o f m y f l e s h
!ignites!
and i feel as a god)
The game is over. Scott, Ricky and I spend an hour tricking the"little" kids into sitting in piles of dog ****
Suppertime and we are called home.
years have come and gone,
still i remember those summers.
with Scott and Ricky.
and the heady . . .
. . .dizzying
breathless . . .
. . . bliss
of
p
l
a
y. . .!
Sometimes . . . from time to time
I also remember the girl -
(and I still feel a tingle in my right hand.)
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
i wake
it is 8
i am seven
the sun floods in through the window
(late!) 2 pop-tarts and some juice and out the door in 9 minutes flat.-
r u n n i n g
recon the neighborhood. "Hey, Scott". We team up. A few of the"little" kids are out as well.
Check at Ricky's. Some sort of punishment, but a little whining and he is free as well.
More kids come out.
DIRT CLOD WARS!
seek cover
They go behind a dumpster. us, in a ditch.
we lob (never throw! ) the chunks of red clay which hit the asphalt with a puff
of puce vapor.
Some kid hits my little brother with a thrown clod,
with a rock in it.
He cries.
Honor demands a fight.
taunting , shoving,
I hit the kid in the nose and it bleeds. Crying he runs home.
(and I feel a glory Alexander would envy.)
"FELIX, COME HOME FOR LUNCH"
(5 minutes to devour a bologna sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk)
then ****** into round two. this time hide-and-seek and she . .
(the new girl ; corn-silk hair and eyes that . . ??
so i'm "it"
but even the "little" kids are getting Home
( i am way out left
because i know . . .)
- suddenly -
she makes a deerlike dash for home, but i am ready,
and like a javelin
appear between her and Home.
"you're out"
as my hand grasps her shoulder.
e v e r y m o l e c u l e o f m y f l e s h
!ignites!
and i feel as a god)
The game is over. Scott, Ricky and I spend an hour tricking the"little" kids into sitting in piles of dog ****
Suppertime and we are called home.
years have come and gone,
still i remember those summers.
with Scott and Ricky.
and the heady . . .
. . .dizzying
breathless . . .
. . . bliss
of
p
l
a
y. . .!
Sometimes . . . from time to time
I also remember the girl -
(and I still feel a tingle in my right hand.)