off a snow white board

green hair

as pre-teen status symbol

and the fire siren

announcing

it's noon

bicycling slowly

slowly as a slow

walk

with a coaster brake

through alleys

of oleander

and sliding down the hot metal

banister

in shorts that burn

your legs

from the thrill

of flying

down the stairs

the long hot climb

up the crackling dry gold

of the cow rutted hill

in afternoon

to wander through

darkest oaken forests

alive with the sound of unseen insects

peopled with imaginary

molesters

and real snakes

the rough feel

of tree bark

as you climb to

an abandoned fort

to see your distant home

like a bird

in the sky

the smell of bay leaves

crushed in your hand

to bring to your mother

the excitement of

the alarm of fire engines

on a nearby hill

where other children

less cautious

set fire to the grass

then flying down

the rough slope

on a refrigerator box

and dry flattened grass

like winter sledding

you suppose

in your snowless

sun baked youth

back home

back in the pool

splashing

splashing at the dog

till he falls in

from excitement

and shakes his fur out

on the pavement

in a million flying droplets

then dinner in the kitchen

elbows allowed

on the Formica counter

as Dad watches the T.V. news

over your shoulder

and Mom debates silently

whether it's ok

to have your friend

sleep over

sour French bread

and cold hard butter

melt in your mouth

as you look out the sliding

screen doors

and hear

still

the sound of splashing

far away

from the rec center pool

swimming again

in the evening

as the air grows cold

and your fingers

for the third time

turn to whitened prunes

and late

at night

lying in your sleeping bag

in the backyard

enjoying the excitement

of unaccustomed

discomfort

and friendship

under the stars

your back is kept warm

despite the sudden cold of nightfall

by the heat of your sunburn

and you make a silent wish

on a star

that September never comes

 

8/8/93