old days

when i was very young

i would see a blade of grass in between pavement stones and smile

a shock of green or yellow{ if a dandelion accompanied }

it was always hot

(i barely remember winters}

the sky always seemed not blue but hazy the

air smelled of chemicals sweat and something always on fire

it burned your nose

heat that rose in orchestrated waves off the black tar

the empty lot on the corner with the smoke and lava like ground was our Shea stadium

there was a corrugated fence covered in IVy where we imagined road games in wrigley

there we played the game of our lives

each and every day

until our Mothers called us to dinner