#2,423 Bash Street

Mike Bell/ May 27, 2022/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

As a boy I ran with a gang
of neighbourhood kids –
now recall-near [perhaps
one of those last herds &
never eyed again] – see it
as a splendid summer of
endless days before they
built a motorway – Climb
& clamberings [between
dared heights] – scabs as
picked-at trophies – peel
of my thickened stickers
[& that taste of my blood
over my tongue] – Where
are they running to-day?

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