From Treehouse To Factory

Those were spare mornings of boundless energy Skipped breakfasts, and hardly enough clothing To layer myself against the sky, and its endless blue bending roll with the black outside of it. Stepping on nails, and turning trash into play The neighborhood boys pick sides, draw straws Pile up ammo, rocks, shingles, glass, cuss words and premature fruit to hurl at one another 'till dark. Or blood... Curiosity killed the cat, but 'twas the rats that brought it back. There are only so many holes to dig in a Summer. Only so many elbows and knees to scab before it's time to eat, and forget. But that was the Summer I got my first pair of boots and started smoking in the orange grove with the older boys in Ozzy shirts. That was also the year my friend fell out of the tree house and never walked again. Lying there like a small bird that had just flown into a window We drew a tight circle around him, then numbly, We all went home having earned nothing.