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A Tin Can Summer


Laugh child and skip on home now. Forget the clang of the tin can echoing down the alleyway, you’ve joy, school’s out soon and you're tired of lies.

You run to the corner and steady yourself on the concrete path, the programmed route where your kind and dog walk with hints of madness. Let the sea hold your limbs, your spleen. Tall shadows crumple in exhaustion over whistling gutters in an obscure baptism as you move alongside them. Mom’s waiting. Forget the bogeyman, he’s dead. Don’t you know that war sent him seaward with steel shoes that sank like a mother’s heart? Dread has vanished along with affection and truth. Love’s more like the tin can than the bogeyman.

© 2011 by mark prime

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