NaPoWriMo day 10: without a prompt.
Nostalgia. Reminiscence. As we age, these words come into play. And sometimes, like me, you go back to revisit your childhood haunts.
They warned me
but I still tried to moonwalk.
You remember that smooth
walking backwards to Billie Jean?
This time, I glide back
for a one day return to where I began.
The house at 144 is there. Paint peeling,
flecks of grey-white decorate the yard.
Rusted poles, frayed clothes line
bereft of flapping sheets.
I meander down a one-way
and circle back searching
for the corner shop. Marble topped
counter with stools where we perched
to share chocolate or cherry cokes
and carefree cheerleader talk –
now your friendly neighborhood
hardware store. Without those silver
keys to tighten clamp-on skates and
rush down Washington Street so fast
we didn’t need my brother’s Radio Flyer.
Next door sits a Dunkin’, eclairs filled
with counterfeit custard. Past blurred
in the too-large magnifying glass
of my mind’s eye. The moonwalk was
and still is, well beyond my grasp.
lillian the home poet 