More in Release the Hounds
from the bridge on school street
on the river where the brown boy sinks his line
for carp and the adulation of his grandfather
i remember such tans on my pale white skin
and sunsets mourning my half-spent youth
nearby the water drops 3 meters, maybe
more after a thick july thunder or an angry march
in the growl of white mountains
the boy glances at me and half-nods, fearless
though I am large and hairy, possibly more evil
than any one he has ever met,
and smiles.
I smile back,"Good luck."
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