Toys will be Toys


 
I went to playground

–surprised to find

I’d built a highway there. . .

half-remembered, and

thorough fare–
 
 
 
I’d dozed

–swings & slides

and basis, for

released monkeys

to bars beyond labs

a doozy dizzy, and right fine dog

in such a merry-go-round,

razed hell

on earth,

and all the best

trees

for

(hide)

&

> seek <

&

k

i

s

s

i-n-g

2

–and floundered, then

. . .

for a

moment, long

in kid years, long–

and all

agape

I shrugged it off,

never

the

less

–and all the more–

the instant I spotted

hole in chain link

yet existed,

and

shimmying under

with scrapes to my elbows,

and

loamy stains to my jeans,

and only

1 prick to my back, I

kicked canned

incidentally.

Skipping

the hole way

to Cullen’s Corner,

to milieu, too

–spending time on 2 cent candy,

and cash

on balsa gliders.

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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