Jump from the green painted porch into a pile of leaves.
Run back across the front and take the stairs two at once
to do it again.
Summer was amazing. Bright blue free standing pools
and ivy climbing up in the tunnel between the garage and
ten foot wall marking the property line between Taylor street
and the other side of the block. The dare to brave it,
so many G.I. Joes gone in the call of never ended days duty.
Skid stops on BMXs kicking driveway gravel yards out
to the street.
Expeditions to the bodega and thieving lessons,
whole sleeves of cookies at a time and if ya
put the 8 bit, flip top, handheld, black on bronze screen
toys in your mouth they won't trip the door sensors
or tip off cashiers, or just stick the bags of Legos inside
a burgundy knit hat.
Follow round chase arounds and games of tag
that end if and only if the people from two blocks over
run away from the square of Staten Island that is fair game,
chased to curb edge. Maybe a few yards further,
but no more.
Holding hands over tea.
A thumb across your knuckles and again.
Teeth spread laughing over
what might grow in the window box
once the weather really starts to get cold this year and
wondering what the nap headed gray eyed
ragamuffins will get up to when they arrive
years from now.
Snapped awake years from then.
