what you remember

it surprises you, what
you remember.
how far back you go.
it's scary, the decades
under your belt.
the sirens,
kennedy and cuba.
the yankees
and marilyn.
how is it possible
that you are not on
that stoop at twelve,
blonde hair
in the sun, tanned
arms and legs,
broken shoes,
and striped shirts.
you can still see
the gleam of color
in your father's
torquoise impala.
the imaginary hose
in his hand as
the sunight sprayed
happily through
the water.