Empty Silo Alley

Grew up- on front door stares of pre payloads fields 

a farmer's offspring gamble for everlasting prosperity.

Grew up- big wheel'n a rural Popular street

to young for the street to be a state one strives to be.

Grew up- clinching buttocks

for bowl's don't move till sun twilight leaves-

stretch out the last light until shadows stretch out 

to call little townies home. Go to bed 

strip off extra small OP long sleeve

straight leg jeans over worn traction shoes

hair a mess like the day's end underpants.

Grew up- across the street from a Catholic football field.

The golden team huddles around a bear mascot 

do'n hand jive before games 

prey to win- prey for sins.

Grew up- jump'n off baseball dugout's roof

with an air real flip landing on pole volts cushioned pit

sinking into the hot black tarp in early spring

rays left skin red on cool degree days.

Grew up- enjoying a bare foot fall off a red garage shingled roof

try'n to fly over black jacket hive gutters that fight.

A sand box captured the fallen flight the fallen fight.

Hot roof tar stuck to feet that gathered sand mid toes

tall green grass be'n watered cooled them

the same way warm stung skin in late afternoon

feels against wet bed sheets on clotheslines.

Grew up- following railroad tracks through hollow woods

where forts of imagination prevailed.

Grew up- pedaling a banana seat bike by a pig's slaughter house 

on the way to convenient Casey's for cheap candy .

Grew up- swimming with tad poles in semi-truck

dug out loading dock 

filled for days after heavy rain.

Grew up- aspiring to spit 

a dirty habit next to swearing for the age.

Grew up- moved complacently shy.

Now well into the tragedy of the second act 

of a three part play. Pass the intermission where

you don't have the length of time 

that a child has watching minutes tick off

a score board at a high school sports game.

I grew up on front door stares of grown payloads fields 

in the harvest i'm knocked down defined.

When the third act ends where pain don't take me by surprise

for legs have no reason to roam around this beautiful glory.

Roll my bones to an Iowa cemetery 

where namesakes that planted me are buried.