In those days

In those days
there were bedsheet flags,
wooden swords,
bobby pin rifles.
Our breathless legions in shabby Keds.
Shoe boxes full of bubblegum cards,
fluffy-edged from brick wall flingings.
Tennis balls with fluff long gone,
and pockets full of marble prizes.

And, in tumbling years,
I knew a kid who sniffed acetone.
He had no Dad, but had a gun.
Called his mum a crazy bastard,
and plowed his own sorry path.
But one night, he saved me.

So many had their plights,
and I despaired of ice cream castles
in the air.

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