Tag Archives: Writing

Curious: about the place I’d grown up in.

Hometown visit
tracing the route I’d take,
juvenile on bicycle or blade,
or foot with my childhood best
friend, sometimes alone, out to the swimming pool;
railroad tracks, sugarhouse,
the park,
all blue
sky,
seas,
green aground,
chlorine, adventure between
classes; the library,
new as it was to me; infinite
then.
It used to be on a corner across the park on
72
but now, a neglect of nook within
that field we’d fly kites across. Gone.

The change I
cannot justify. Continue reading →