I see the Boys ((Of Donkeyland)(1960s))

I see the Boys
((Of Donkeyland)(1960s))

I see the boys of Cayuga Street, it is summer
(it is in the early sixties)
They are sitting on the steps of the neighborhood—
grocery store
(in the evening it will be the church steps).
There is the heat of the summer winds
They are talking about the neighborhood girls,
chewing on green apples from
Old Man Brandt’s backyard.

These boys of the neighborhood, called Donkeyland
by the police, are curds in their recklessness?
Sweet and sour, like honey on fire;
The jacks of folly, with fingers like bees
Here in the summer’s sun, they sneak under
bridges, catch pigeons, scale the beams
no doubt, even in the dark they feed their nerves.
After twilight, after leaving the church steps
they will go down to the train tracks
open up a car full of beer, jump over the
crematory fence, and get wasted.

I see the boys of Cayuga Street, it is still summer
They divide the night and day with mental images
they got on dark shades.
As sunlight paints in the moon, they are building
bonfires in the empty lot (by Indian’s Hill).
I see now some will die young, some in the Army
the Vietnam War is going on, others will
die old, or in their 60s (I know of a few already)
But this is still far off….

There, in the night, everyone’s sleeping, but the boys
in the neighborhood turnaround
(some have chains of keys hidden behind
their coats: Mike, and Gary and a few others,
they will borrow a car or two, for a joyride).
Here all the girls, and boys with their drinks and
smokes, jokes, a fight or two, Big Ace making
loud noises, dancing—David laughing, I’m
somewhere around; it’s a love and drunken quarry.
O I don’t see much promise of the boys, some ruin—
but who knows (I might be fooled?)
They are becoming men, there father’s were,
The sons of the hard and gray, with a spark
in the playing field.

4-22-2008 (#2359)