a dozen eggs

you see
a group of kids
throwing
eggs at cars
along the stretch
of woods
that borders
the road
in your neighbor
hood,
they see you
coming up
the walk,
in the dark,
and begin to
run, leaving
a dozen or so
raw eggs behind
in the carton.
you know
the kids and where
they live,
you see them
in the morning
waiting for
the school bus,
with their books.
there is nothing
you will say
to them, or
do, all of this will
pass with time
as it did
once, a very long
time ago,
for your friends,
now old,
and you.