A September afternoon
When the child was parked
And the inner child released
And the sky swung round and round and round
A giddy tumblesault
Head over heels
You are old Father William
And you Mother Mary?
You are gone.
Who will recall
The drive to the country
With the child all packed
And the driver washing his greasy brown hair
While we waited
And wondered aloud
And the hours that it took
And the starry blanket sky
That we found.
I must recount
Following a pink raincoat
On a girl’s Schwinn bike
To a store in a basement of a church
A Possibility Shop
Of endless possibilities
Treasures unearthed
Trinkets collected
In pockets and boxes.
I greedily clutch
Eely moments of time
That fight in my fist:
Gasping gills greasily glide downward
To watery depths
Of a cold dark lake
Where you hide
Tresses flowing
By your mermaid smile.
