from school, or church, or somewhere,
it doesn't matter,
i was always walking,
i stumbled upon
a stack of old Playboy
Magazines
from the sixties.
they were set out on
the curb for trash pick up.
they were in pristine
condition i discovered
as i quickly flipped
through the glossy pages,
while looking other my shoulder.
i was thirteen or so,
and couldn't believe my luck.
i carried as many home
as i could in
my small arms
and stashed them in
the closet behind
my ball and glove,
a bat and tennis shoes
and smelly socks.
i couldn't wait to begin
reading all the fine
articles and poetry,
short stories
in the magazines when i
got home
from school the next day,
but no,
they were gone, my brother
who was studying to become
a Baptist Minister
had found them, and tossed
them out.
i've never forgiven him.
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