seven Pogs and a wooden
fence, brown and
dangling in the
past.
Lion King with Disney on the
back in purple, dusty
letters. One-fifty at the
dollar store.
Out back, a lake swelters in the
mid-day sun, waiting
for small, muddy feet.
these Pogs: treasures lifted from
the sea-bed, quick fingers
luring them with
allowance money.
somewhere it was so sunny
one could hardly
breathe.
