Briardale Projects...Many Summers Ago.


Briardale Projects, Many Summers Ago.



Beneath the

hood of child,
I wander melancholy,
in the shadows

of nevermore.

Kicking the

can of today
far across the backyard,
shouting out loudly,
"All-lee, All-lee, In free!"
and then chasing

my friends

long gone.

Giggles rising

like flocks of geese,
as I make way far

south of this moment.

Basking in the eyes

of my childhood sweetheart,
they were blues no girl
could match ever since.

Long curls of

sun burnished blond
draped her angelic face,
as we talked about nothing
but it meant everything.

Flipping baseball

cards with Ricky,
playing stick ball

in the street,
that masking tape ball
held a lot of dreams
rolled up tightly

in the projects.

Long hours of whimsy,
responsibilities totally

Till dusk comes,
the streetlights go on
and I hear the voice
of my dearest dead mother,
calling me to

come home
and so I do.


Back to the

hood of adult,
like a pilgrim

whose progress
is impeded by the wieght
of the sins he bears.

Later my head

hits the pillow,
and the night

brings the dreams
that carry me to places
I haven't yet lived.





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