Seeds and Sand and Grand Philosophies

Late-August evening,
autumn sneaking up on us,
five brash and fragile
occupy the beach.
Greg and I and Jack
and Matt and Megan.
Blatantly ignoring nightfall's
warning, "Hell, we might
just stay til morning!"

Familiar with eachother,
sensing this would be
the final summer in
the history of tag
and kickball after supper,
up and down and up the street.

Jack altogether sheds
the recent dignity of his
Bar Mitzvah, cracks
a watermelon up against
the rocks and roars.

We stay and stay,
push past the curfew.
(It is worth the penaltly.)
Clinging to our childhoods,
beginning to break free.
Spitting seeds and sand,
ideas and grand philosophies.
"When we take over the world."

Devouring the fruit,
sweet juice of our
communion bleeding
down our chins and necks
and arms to the elbows.
Relishing this final
(for it was the last time)
tenderest, most
wild comradery.

-- Deb Cooper

Send Comments to Greg Gordon MD, CFI, cydoc@earthlink.net
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