the laughing men

oh memory

childhood illusion

behind what synapse

the aroma of smoldering autumn fire

suburban side roads

softly gauzed in smoky light

children’s saturday voices

rising from yards

family raked

weekend chored to

the status quo

piles of leaves

huffed to curbs

and set aflame

block after block

whole towns aligned

in stretched out tended pyres

exuding fragrant incense

careful drive-by cars

and older kids on bikes

were lost amidst

enveloped in mystery

passing altars of maple

oak and ash

my father’s face

angular, unlined

srtark in fading daylight

smoking a cigarette

with his drop-by buddy John Podesta

best friend from one street over…

both palming sunset beers

none of us aware

either one of them

would make It past

middlle age

emphysema

alcohol’s harsh moraine

yet

in that  conflated

pivot of recall

for some unfathomable reason

they both stand their ground

edging into darkness

going on and on

ranting like madmen

at the world I knew

too little about…

cursing life

and laughing.