Tuesday, February 18, 2020

mom, columbia burner toledo, and the house on fulton street


the paint was completely peeled off
an old man sitting in a rocking chair
exposing a dark wood exterior
think of swampy boards and humidity
off a soupy lake erie

we lived next door
my older brother was in grade school
i was three or four walking down to a neighbor
and a house full of hungry kids
while mom put in another factory shift
at columbia burner

this was about 1951 or 52
and an over-sized sombrero
was placed on my head for a picture
with a photogenic donkey
making the rounds
in the neighborhood

there was white bread and peanut butter
for lunch most every day
the house full of babysat kids
ate fast and then ran out to the sidewalks
and back alleys
looking for adventure
     as i followed

being maybe the youngest in the gang
meant being coaxed into a good number
of more risky dares
like throwing a water filled balloon
at the old man's porch
which brought him out yelling
in an unfamiliar language

when i was asked
how old i was i remember trying
to say as clearly as possible that i was three
but it came out through my whistling front teeth
     that i was
     free

nonetheless i'm not exaggerating to say
that i am truly sorry for all past transgressions
     even at this late stage
even as the creaky frame houses
     fade
or get plowed under
and the peanut butter
left on your face
becomes indelible

--- e b bortz

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