Of Growing Up

We had a pop can fireworks show,
a backyard Forth of July
and every girl wore a tiny t-shirt,
every one the same bouncy hair.

That was the night I melted away the sole of my shoes
and left globs of black rubber dried

the night we stole beer cans from parents,
after I disappeared into the movements of dusk,
before I went back behind the trees.

I remember orange glowing faces.
kissing on the edge of the yard.
I remember not having a way home.

Blured to the very edge, I believe my eyes wet that night darker.

And when the first cans exploded in the fire
embers out and up, raining down from the closing sky
I remember we all gathered close,
watching to see how bright it would get.

a thank you

many are things 'no longer'
and in the gone away there are photographs,
4 by 6 inch windows
in which to look out on a world that was

and if i spread out all of you,
the candy bars, red carpet and wild smiles, just right
they whisper -

i made your mother

and only then, grandma
is the what you were and so much of what you weren't gone away

and though you may, she never will