my minds eye
cataloged and filed
these stories of my youth -
in my story chamber.
the warm rubber
water surge
after running in the tall grass,
minutes just to quench my thirst.
we share the hose
like any community of thirst
it is satisfying
and desperately needed.
these waves of air
these birds they carry
with no effort
they sit and float.
glide
home to a better view
episodal reruns of children
hiding in houses
and playing bloody murder -
count before you die,
we could play all night.
at least i tried.
and when the evening came
to a screeching halt
we caught fireflys
to guide us home.
dinner bells ring
mothers' scream
another summer day in
the south
barefoot and writing
memories for my story chamber.
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