by December 8, 2022 0 comments

The kids around here have the same
Deal I had as a kid — quiet
Street, no customers, baking sun.
No one thinks to bring any ice
For their spare selection of room
Temperature sugar water.

At two in the afternoon these
Children have made no money. They
Ask me if I want Lemonade!
Sir! Lemonade! but give up soon,
Catching my advanced age. How old
Do I seem to them? Eighty? Dead?

Just a few years ago, I swear…
I was on this very same street,
Making the same money. Our brave
Acme did not last long: it was
So hot, the sun so high, that we
Often closed up shop by one sharp.

Strange the way you look back fondly
On steamy August afternoons;
Stranger still the way memory
Shapes being young, how a long day
In the sun becomes something else
Now, a thought that glows. As if our
Minds protect the past, a second
Life only we know; and some of
Our memories glow because kids
Truly don’t care how witty they
Seem on Twitter, let alone how
Happy they say they are online.

editors note:

So good, them goodle days; gooder than they were, but always gooder than now. – mh clay

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