#1034542 added July 1, 2022 at 10:22pm Restrictions: None
Saving Heroes & Me (Saturdays)
When I was running through my neighborhood,
PJs on, towel wrapped around neck,
who did I think there was to save?
No one.
Just nine, a visionary empowered by
Saturday morning cartoons,
breakfast cereal and a dream
to be a hero. I could.
No one to look up to.
Father paled, 2nd best —
didn’t pat my head as he passed.
Not typical sitcom dad, resented
the notion, be sentimental,
measure up to fiction
consumed by a boy shining
in cotton sleepwear..
Cap guns blazed, donning
a plastic lid, loose tethered.
Just a lonesome western icon, ma’am.
Black masked, a shadow for sidekick.
No one but a boy as his own hero,
dined in her kitchen nook.
With straw drawn, inhaled
milk mixed with brown powder.
Cheese slathered noodles
sopped paper plates, downed
with chunks of dogs. And,
all the cookies I could eat
like dreams.
Sun set on those Saturdays,
washed with hair wet (in flannel, again)
on a clean, cement stoop. Crickets
filled silence for me and no one.
7.1.22
Edited, another look later?
2-Time WDC Quill Winner: Best Poetry Collection, 2020 and 2021.
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