when I go back to my childhood
home,
driving down Dorchester street
to winthrop
and audrey lane,
where I had my
paper route,
past the parks where
we played ball.
the bowling alley wall
with a strike zone
we painted on.
when I see the house
next to ours,
the brick duplex,
where the girl I loved
lived,
the bushes still there
where we hid
and stole our first kiss.
I have good thoughts.
sweet memories.
I don't see the bad in
any of it.
the poverty, my parents
divorce, the feeling
of having less
than others. I only have
good memories.
brothers and sisters
before things changed
and we fell apart.
love and fun, summers
at the pool.
winters on our sleds.
i'd have it
no other way, than what
it was.
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