that
day I roamed the yard near the bushes on the walk.
I
was without a fear and going nowhere in the spring
down
the block and over toward the neighbor's swing
still
holding my blue driveway chalk.
And
so their rope was low and the steps, unfolded,
and
it looked like a big kid hang out in the sticks
up
there between their three close trees all loaded with
everything
a guy of thirteen could want for kicks.
And
so I was the next house over on our row
when
I invaded on and played up on that big guy's fort.
And
after climbing high the ladder I could've stayed
that
bright day in the neighbor's tree house shade
because
the rope got too damn short.
I
needed an escort to the ground to get back down
because
climbing up seemed easy at the time.
So
the day grew late and cold and the crime got a lot
more
bold behind the boards all painted brown.
I
looked through the hole in the floor and saw
that
mile to the ground and decided to stay and wait
as
mom and dad turned the street upside down.
They
banged on every door where I might be found
in
panic because it was getting late.
But
I stayed there scared and with a filling bladder
and
played with their gadgets and wished for stairs
so
I'd not have to contend with that long rope ladder.
"Goodbye
mom and dad, I guess I'm now theirs."
And
I don't remember when they found me
but
they got me down and gasped and sighed for hours
glad
to have me back on the ground, but I was mad,
for
I had found a higher plane and felt so glad
to
be that big guy in the towers.
But
now that neighbor kid thought me pretty rad,
and
that has made all the difference.
--Poems from the Sprawl
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