the scent of freshly mown grass mingled
with the faintest whiff of chlorinated
pool water reaches my front porch
carried on a late afternoon breeze.
my neighbor’s eleven year old boy
runs past barefooted and soaked
from head to toe. from what i’ve heard
he likes to shout the “f word”
at random kids on the bus
and struggles to get passing
grades in school. but now bathed
in warm summer sunshine he could
almost pass for a paragon of innocence.
and as the dull slap of his cool feet
on hot pavement echoes in the space
between us he glances over, grins,
and making a sharp left turn
onto his lawn flips me off.
