THE SKATES ARE
ON THE CURTAINS
The fourth grade kids are eating licorice;
I never liked that stuff, red or black. Either.
Licorice, as I recall, came in double-sticks,
stuck together, or little licorice bullet-type
plugs, or, even ,they had, licorice chewing
gum. Black Jack, that was called. Tolerable,
maybe, for a ten-year old who pretends
that it's a tobacco chew on a big-league
pitching mound, as he spits black spit. Both
Little League and Pony League have fantasies
of this. And then comes war. And then comes
marriage. The skates are on the curtains,
the baby's in the carriage.