forever saved

there was the drug store
on the corner
where we caught the bus for school.
poor white boys and girls being
bused to the white schools
where the money was.

across the street was meade's
liquor, a drive thru, where
the cars lined up each morning
to get their pint of courage
in order to face the day. i'd see
my father pull through in his
turquoise chevrolet, throwing
us a wave.

the shopping center was across six
lanes of unending traffic.
eastover.
penny's and krogers,
g.c. murphy's.
a high's ice cream store.
down the road, up south capital
street at the intersection
of Atlantic avenue
was a movie theater. on
the weekends they showed
three flicks one after the other.

a bright red curtain would be
pulled back when the first cartoon
started the day.

my paper route ran from Audrey
lane to Winthrop street
and back home to Dorchester.
I pulled my wagon for years
full of the Washington post,
my dog walking beside me.

the ball field was the pavement
behind the bowling alley,
where we threw duckpins on
Saturdays, and threw our
rubber balls into painted
strike zones in the back.
stick ball until our hands
were red with blisters.

a drainage ditch separated
Maryland from dc.
a concrete bridge led the way
to church, st. Thomas More,
where we confessed our sins
on sunday. sometimes we had to
run back, a pack of boys from
d.c. would be waiting for us,
knowing we were from the other
side, of another color, not black.

there was ernie and mike, jimmy fitz,
Sidney, ike and fran, snookie,
dexter, Bernie, Donnie and
dale and tommy, karen, my first
main squeeze. peggy smith
on the corner, chic and linda.
and all six of my known brothers
and sisters, earle and gary,
Debbie and Theresa, randy and Maryanne.

summers turned into winters, we
grew up. we grew out, we went
our separate ways, that childhood
locked up in each of our memories.
each moment a gem of some sort,
forever saved. forever lost.