LOOKING
BACK
I am in a cage where the north is the sidelight and the
light before me is ultra-real. It leads me to other
places.
I ask you to listen : the candy mart at the edge of the
street where kids playing stickball still listen for the
screech of a policeman's tires; the two girls in
jumpsuits
from after-school, sitting to watch the boys at play;
the
loudmouth boy, the one with the cross, continually up
and
down retrieving the balls from the nearby library's low
roof.
Each hit a homer; each homer lost on the library roof.
-
Nothing has any meaning. The girls in the jumpsuits as
yet have no breasts; everything is small and growing,
everywhere like Spring. This is a season of youth, to be
squandered, a simple thing wasted - as is
said - on
the young. All is joy and flirt, and Easter is just
around
the corner. Just now, the bats and gloves have come out.
-
A month ago, still living in deep-freeze, these same
kids
were smashing icy snowballs off each other's head.
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