Serious Play

Folder: 
Vintage Words

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I remember a song three six nine,

hand play to bananas and toes and EIO’s.

A song of eyes and a mouth red with

suckers or apple candy green. Faces

were always open to wonder letting

the eyes take it in honestly innocent,

pure as Africa.

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I remember a tune chugged full of trains

heavy as the last snow on eyelashes blinking

a familiar melody at the ice skating rink.

Water running down the face was clean like

long unbroken flat ended chalk, fresh as

a new pair of paper scissors.

. 

There was once a jingle set to the sound

of hooves on a green glass mountain

climbed using claws, a phoenix in the back

yard of an unfinished lyric, talk of cabbages

and holes so deep the bottom ended this side up.

.

There was never much hanging out in the array

of the day, only a memory of hopscotch in the

sunlight of do nothing hours, ropes jumped, or

a contentment of fields full of butterflies.

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allets

08-23-06

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Author's Notes/Comments: 

from Womanchild Manchild

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