When he made
his first personal appearance
in the dirty alley
on someone else’s rusty bike,
screaming along
in a cloud of dust,
it rendered us all
speechless and motionless.
But I was amazed
that despite his grey-faced surliness,
he was very affable with us…
the bully with a naive
and sentimental heart.
He was so happy
to hear that I liked his dad,
or that my mum liked him,
and he was welcome
to come to tea
with us at five twenty five…
Our adventures were spectacular:
chasing after other bikesters,
screaming at the top
of our lungs
into blocks of flats,
and then running
as our echoed waves of terror
blended with incoherent threats…
“I’ll call the Police, I’ll…”
Wicked cahoots.
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Some memories here that remind me of my memories.
Hi Eli, great to hear it, I still think of my childhood as a more or less ideal period.
how fun, that feeling of youthful risk taking, the humanity of children. thanks for the ride
Thanks, Gregory, yes it was fun for sure, I miss it all a lot.
Guessing that was true story, really a nice piece, A bully with a naive and sentimental heart.
Hi Rob, thank you, yes it was 100% true.