beneath these wheels of my three speed Huffy
summit avenue races by – a road taking me
and my brothers past the mansions of attorneys
brokers and bankers – we are not impressed by
their wealth and stature – because we are going
fishing while they build their empires on
scotch and mutual funds – we aim to build ours
on peanut butter sandwiches and fat carp down
at the mighty miss – school’s out for summer
and fall is a distant dream that is lost in the
bottom drawer of my tackle box swinging
precariously from the handlebar of my
three speed Huffy.
Previously published in Reciting From Memory.
