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PUZZELS OF CHILDHOOD PUZZELS OF CHILDHOOD As a child of tricycle age Slaved to our side of street, Days when the old neighborhood was my only world, And dad's grape arbor out back Where I found myself most days Playing alone, was my only solitude, It was my castle then. You see we didn't seem to fit In those early days of watching eyes When certain things were expected Of proper neighbors, And going fishing on Sundays Was not one of them(Even if we needed the fish). I remember making stories up For the neighborhood kids Designed to impress them, just enough That they would let me join in play And sometimes, when their mothers Were not watching They did just that. Though it wasn't long Before I began to believe My own heroic tales, Finding I could be anything I dreamed. Captain America saving our country, Chuck Yeager piloting the X-1, Or King Arthur conquer any foe, ruling any kingdom With nothing more than a wooden sword And a broom stick scepter. That's when I meet Boosy Walker Waiting in the barber shop next-door. They wouldn't cut his hair because he was black So I wouldn't let them cut mine either, And in our own good time We went to Fat Sadie's store Down on Ninth and Third Trading hair cut money For Sadie's penny candy. Maybe it was our father's punishment That bound us one to the other I don't know, but after that Boosy and I matched, We fit together And they didn't like that any better, But we had already conquered our foes And founded our kingdom And they liked that Even less. Summer 1959 uTAH jAY Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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