Just A Writer... But My Pal.

[The last post I posted was my 365th. Finally, after three years.]


Days like these
with that Spring smell around
remind me of
childhood.

Scrape of chalk on concrete,
bouncing balls above wires and
hool-ing hoops around arms.

The clack of street hockey
as I watched Nicks friends play.

Skinned knees from trying too hard,
blood from a skateboard accident and
my name hollered from
front porches when the sun

goes

down.



Boy: I can't cross my legs.
Me: Really?
Boy: Yeah, my pants are too tight.
Girl: Liar! You can't cross them without pants on either.

And something about a big friendly bear.