good memories

I drive by the old house.
the house
I grew up in and lived
there for ten years
of my young life. a
red brick duplex in the middle
of the hood,
down the street from
the bowling alley,
and drugstore,
the neon lit motel
that charged by the hour.
the house looks
the same,
the trees are larger,
that over
hang the squared yard,
surrounded by
chain link, but that's
about it. it was paradise
back then.
the street a ball field,
the world
at dark full of fun
and mystery. first love,
first kiss,
first
awakening to a world
and what's to come. I slow
down in my car,
almost to a stop.
we can romanticize
nearly every horror in
our life, if we put our
mind to it.