Walking the Yard

Walking the Yard
To be read aloud.
Copyright © March 23, 2014 by Douglas W. Jerving.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except as provided by USA copyright law.

I pluck a golden hairpin covered in sunshine.

Daytime I pace the park that is my asphaltine
Serendipitous lonesome walk where the elbow-held
Children go, their chant commemorative meld
Of drone minds minus a capacity to think. They say
“Hey hey, get outta my way. I just got back from the USA.”

Recess noon on playground for a seven year old
Means math no more exciting than to pace the cold
Day’s pavement or push my arched feet into the slab
Heated by near summer so that the tar retains the tab
Like a footprint of a star on Hollywood Boulevard.

But I am not famous and this is just my school yard.

I step akimbo one more time to collect a locket
Or a jewel from a Crackerjack box for my pocket
In order that these treasures may become the things
My Mom might find invaluable. Marbles and strings
Of multicolor. I dare not go upon the verdant vale.

‘Yond the asphalt jungle, dark trees lurk. The pale
Place where upon the weekends I was free
To ride my bike and make discoveries
That made the grown up world around me clear
By finding some young people’s underwear
Where we were not allowed to be for fear
Of men with candy or others who were queer.

I pick up a talisman of tin and rusted paperclips
And pebbles that still sparkle like lusty red lips
That I still know nothing about yet they portray
The hints of love and life and the ruined forays
Of teen aged love affairs of olden days.


Doug Jerving is the publisher of the NewEdisonGazette.com. You may contact him at djerving@newedisongazette.com.


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