Moon
The biggest treat for me
When I was so much younger,
Was to lie in the moonbeam
That oozed through my bedroom window
And bounced and rested on my bed for the night.
Lying in that moonbeam felt secure…warm…
Birthday cake and baseball glove comfort
I reveled in this warmth.
Moonbeams today
Are cold…
Pittsburgh circa the 50′s
For endless miles along the muddy river
Steel Mills shat out crimson colored diarrhea
That ran down the hillside towards the river…
Glowing neon lava.
And skinny, soot covered smokestacks,
Phallic symbols of heroic strength on the Mill Roofs,
Belched out blackish lung killing ash and smoke.
Now the Mills are dead…
Engulfed by their own greedy need to breathe poison.
And the river still flows…
How ironic…
Buds
There were four of us…
Long time friends and lovers of adventure.
We walked the railroad tracks from town to town
Hoping, and in the same trembling breath, fearing
That a train would
Fly at us, pistoning and hissing for us to get out of the way or forever
Become a piece of fleshy track…
And while we listened intently for the warning rumbles and vibrations
We watched for treasures which, by today’s standards,
Would be nothing but junk.
But when we were young, it was truly a Pirate’s hoard sunk into the
Railroad bed.
Sledding
Winter in Pennsylvania brought it’s own galoshes…
Rubbery soot from Steel Mills, and the clinging fumes of traffic.
But in some places where we grew up, winter remained pure…
Testing our skill and nerve and stupidity…
Sledding down the hill covered in wedding gown white.
And if we weren’t quick enough or lucky enough,
We’d sploosh into the scummy creek at the bottom
Of our Eden…
Smelly, soaked, and laughing.
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