Wednesday, July 15, 2009

something like autobiography

My memories are of street fights.
Milk glass.
Gummy blobs on the sidewalk.

Errant urchins.
A wish frustrated.

Brother and sister tag teams in front of "our" house.
Agonal gutter rainbows.

Sidewalk made cheeks and knees rubble.
Landscape for pretending.

Why were we always fighting.
Filled up with breaking light.

Sometimes we played stoopball,
sometimes we rollerskated,
sometimes we punched each other in the face.

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