We sat around
calling each other
by our mother’s
names, listening
to the Kingston
Trio and playing
basketball on the
dirt court,
kicking
up some dust
knowing
that the next
summer we
would have to
get jobs.
It was
our age of
innocence.
“Clickety-clack,
clickety-clack,
the wheels are
sayin’ to the
railroad track,
‘Well, if you go,
you can’t come
back.’”