Cruisin'

It's summer; school is out, the kids are free,
And they go screeching by in all their cars
As though it were a Friday night. When we
Were that age we were just the same. The stars
Glowed high above us, burning, dying, while
We paid them hardly any mind, except
When we were waiting, sometimes with a smile,
Sometimes with bitterness, for those who kept
On telling us "just one sec." Being out
At night time was so new, so glamorous,
E'en if it just involved a car, a route
That took us back and forth, some beer, some fuss
O'er what to blast through speakers. Life is short,
Especially when you're seventeen. Cavort!

Lines On Seeing My Friend Play With Her Son

O Parker, soon enough school bells will toll

For you; this is your final Fall to be

Carefree with Mom, and as these last days roll

Of lovely weather, it's so good to see

The two of you at play out on the path

On this fine day, and marvel how you've grown!

It won't be long until spelling and math

Must occupy you. All of us have known

That toil, except for you. Your ignorance

Of what awaits you is perfect and clear

While you and your orange bike ride down where once

Bare pastures stood, your mother jogging near.

Change overtakes us all. Meanwhile, enjoy

This perfect day, you silly, lovely boy.

In Which A Childhood Fear Surfaces

It's taking me much courage e'en to look
Upon the photo I've put on this page;
Blame China Mieville for it; his new book
The Kraken, just so happened to engage
Me quickly in a quest again to see
What's haunted me since childhood. Lo! Behold:
Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni
The merest thought makes my blood run so cold,
I'm eight again, in Wyoming, landlocked
But still quite sure this monster lurked below
My bedclothes, clacking beak, thoroughly stocked
With tentacles and after me. I know:
'Twas silly of me, out here, to believe
A giant squid could get me of an eve.

In Which An Old Pal Turns 30: Waka Waka Waka

Can it be thirty years since we first learned
A hungry man can live on yellow dots?
How many million quarters have been burned
To hear the waka waka? Must be lots!
I ever was a duffer at this game;
One only was there in my little town
And that where I dared not go, to my shame --
The high school kids were scary, hangin' down
At the convenience store, when it was new.
Now where the arcade games were, you will find
A low-rent humidor of cigarettes.
I wasn't totally deprived, though, mind:
I too wasted much time with no regrets.
I had to go to Rawlins, that was all
And play at Roller City. 'Twas a ball.

A P.E. Flunkee's Visit To A Gymnastics School

A skill I never had's in practice here.

These earnest children tumble, twirl and turn --

The elders even fly! This is no mere

Diversion. I see Bethany and learn.

I love the pride on Bonnie's daughter's face,

A run of cartwheels now beneath her belt,

Well executed, at an even pace.

Accomplishment's a thing I never felt

Upon the mats in element'ry school.

For me, this sport brought on a sense of shame;

In mind quite sound, in body such a fool

I felt an utter failure at this game --

And never even saw that it is one.

Say nothing of the thought it might be fun.

Mike McIlvaine: Feb. 2, 1970 - April 25, 1989

Just three years old, we met at the ballet,

Not knowing then just how close we would get.

We'd be together almost ev'ry day

For sixteen years. I never will forget

Our kissing at the movies, the front bench,

While "Jack the Giant Killer" played onscreen,

Just little kids but there was love. The wrench

Of losing you, I still feel, very keen.

Though our last talk in person was a fight,

We made up on the phone. Then you were gone.

It felt as though someone put out the light

Of my entire life, but I pushed on.

Each day since I have lived my life for two.

Today you would be 40. I miss you.

BUG WEEK: In Which I Share A (Sort Of) Secret

When I was young, e'en to my eighteenth year

I had a weakness easy to play on:

For nothing in the world gave me such fear

As insects, in the house, out on the lawn,

Once memorably in a campground sink -

Saturniid, there, I picture in my head.

The merest sight would make me scream. You'd think

Me stabbed. Now, "phobia" was never said

Though surely it was thought, as I could stand

A dragon- or a butterfly all right.

By college time it was, though, out of hand

And Bard is a most buggy place at night.

My cure? I took a course and learned each part

An insect has, and thereby lost my heart.

BONUS SONNET: Bye-Bye, Mr. & Ms. American Pie

Two icons of my childhood, both are gone.

I still recall when his hair caught on fire,

And still laugh loud when she sits on the lawn

And tries repeatedly just to inspire

A quiet moment to reflect on trees.

My sister loved MJ much more than I,

As girls. But I remember -- quelle suprise

Our skating in our dad's garage to my

Small turntable with Thriller on and more.

In later years, the freak show dwarfed the man

And Farrah sort of faded to decor:

Her poster long outlived her actual span

Within the public eye. I bid them peace.

At last the tabloids, flashbulbs for them cease.