Saturday, January 07, 2012

Like Kites

Today smells like kites,
mesquite trees, tumbleweeds; my spying the secret fort
(from the one two-story house on the block),
wrecked within weeks after I'd told and told.

Ice-cream, too. The Dairy Queen man, with his wife and kids,
ordering me a "secret" cone, despite my own sundae.
He stared to make sure of his gift, which I threw away.

And it smells like the rocks that I picked and picked
from our two-story front yard and tossed in paper bags.
Neighbors mocked: "You'll never get rid of all of those!"
I did, we did. Grass grew. And then we moved.

I like the smell of kites in January, a month
used to strings of things still hanging around, useless.

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