For a year, we had a tennis court
and a rusty orange swing set,
neighbors over fences,
my mother digging in her garden,
talking to the nice young couple
who lived behind us
(they ended up divorcing when the wife
had an affair with the organist at their church —
but I digress). Anyway, the tennis court
was the star of that yard, taking up almost
the entire thing, but not quite, and allowing me
a smooth outdoor surface on which to roller skate
in tall white skates with red and blue stripes
and a mismatched pair of tube socks
pulled as high as they could go.

__________________________________________________
11 (to be explained)