What is Never Coming Back


I miss outrageous hair bands,
the delicious sizzle and pop
of a needle in the groove.

I miss mustard sandwiches for lunch,
tomatoes and salt until fit to burst,
or butter and sugar on slabs of bread.

I miss first kisses, crushes, flirts, and charm,
practice with the glossy lips of Farrah
being barefoot and dirty the usual case.

I miss garter snakes and tall grass,
grasshoppers and crickets,
spiders, frogs and my other playmates.

I miss being able to forgive my dad
for collectors and police at the door,
for divorces, beatings and lies.

I miss TV, tucked behind mother's legs,
wrapped in fuzzy warmth, safe from harm.
I lost my delusions years ago.

I miss summer camp, with archery
and swimming, bunk beds, bug juice.
Another chance to reinvent.

But more than anything else I miss,
I miss the freedom from time limits,
never caring what day or time it might be.

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