Childhood

Poetry

Chubby kids play
in patchy front yards,
well groomed dirt
and prickly crab grass.

No old Goodyears or
used oil pans here.

They frolic in dirt
and Huggies, chasing
chickens and those damn cats.
No pants required.

To quench the heat
they take baths

with the cousins in la tina
de aluminio, cold and frigid,
perpetually full of water
on warm August days.

Mud swirling makes
no difference in games.

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