The Perambulate
David J Walker
(Bach Cello Suite N1 in G Mischa Maisky)
What part of me
Was lost
or
Never was
I see
Refracted
reflections
In a turbid sky
I feel the
Dryness
Of a desert
Cracked in brown skin
I see a crown
Muddied
Bloodied
Without a head
I read a calendar
Faded
In a boarded up
Skelly station
I visit the home of
Discarded
Treasures
Called secondhand stores
I watch reruns of TV
Shows
I never watched
before
I remember every Teacher from
Elementary school
And forget most of the rest
On purpose
I drive an old car
I’ve always
Wanted
But could never afford
I married and
Buried myself
In a love sworn to
Last forever
I’ve lived a long
Life
And wanted more
My grandparents’ home was both tiny and plain,
Quite lacking in places to play,
But my brothers and I and my cousins, at times,
Still had fun when we went for the day.
From the bowl of mixed nuts, we filched filberts so we
Could play skelly across the wood floor
And a deck of Hoyle’s cards kept us busy enough
So the grown-ups we got to ignore.
When the dinner was served, we all gathered around
And attention was naturally paid
To the meal – nothing fancy, but tasty enough,
That my grandma had lovingly made.
All those visits were weekends or holiday times;
Since they ended, it’s been a long while,
But the mem’ries are sweet and suffused with such joy
That I think of them now with a smile.
Ye tripped an fell
an thorns gave you
a skelf.
Aw there.
Ye clyped to tell
an maw gave ye
a skelp.
Aw there.
Looked right and left
because you are
so skelly.
Aw there.
Then oor da left
coz yoor no right.
Naw really, yer no
aw there.
Killer Diller 1 2 3
Johnny Pump spraying on your feet
Skelly,s game played up and down the street
Lifting the Johny Pump water with an aluminum can
Oh So Sweet!
All these things were such a treat
Make growing up on 20th Street
in Astoria
Seem so complete
All topped off with a Mr. Softees treat
bees buzzing along
butterflies fluttering by
humming birds sipping the sweet nectar
from the abundance of fragrant flowers
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
young boys playing catch
little girls jumping rope
older girls turning double dutch
skate boarders whizzing pass
bikers cycling down the street
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
shooting skelly tops
playing marbles
pick-up sticks and jacks
hopscotch on the sidewalk
roller skating down the driveway
touch football on front lawns
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
folks old and young frolicking
in the cool water of the sprinkler
neighbors tending to their gardens
and shrubbery
kids selling homemade lemonade
from a homemade stand on the corner
stick ball in the city streets
red light, green light, one, two, three
Miss Mary Mack, pitty pat
one giant step, may I
Simon says
remembering the lazy, hazy days
of my youth
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
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