1989

0

Autumn evening calls,
it’s after dinner
and we are out the door.

It’s dark
and it doesn’t matter.

Innocent energy unfurls,
high-tops hit pavement,
full tilt.

We run and run
through the neighbourhood;
jump fences,
sneak through side-yards.
A labyrinth of
cat-walks and cul-de-sacs.

The Block Watch
patrols and peeks
out front windows.

Lungs puff steam,
t-shirts cling
to small, sweaty backs.
My dad never said
don’t forget your coat.

We skip aimlessly,
and discover,
the school fields
have disappeared.

Several feet high
thick, dewy mist.
Street lights illuminate
stealthy silhouettes.
Like little ghosts,
we float through the fog.

We whoop, holler,
and howl.
The night is ours.

A group of Big Kids
smoke stolen cigarettes
on the cold metal
playground.

A call breaks
the silence.

Kids!
Time to come in!

We run.