Verge of a Dream: Friends for Life

That red brick grammar
School is no longer there.
A lefty, steve hit a soft
Ball firmly off its
Upper level wall.
Only knowing him
slightly, thought he’d
make something of
himself with that
hard high drive that
went farther (it was not
further.., there’s the
grammar learned at
Levitt avenue school). I
thought he’d do
something in life though
I only knew him lightly.
Not even the house he
was raised in
the small town pretending
To be of Scottish descent
I guess
I have no sense of what
success is…or whether
it is sweetly fragrant
though a bust
of burt Lancaster in
a hall of fame would
be titled, my friends
from childhood are
friends for life.
I know that hitting
A ball apparently
occasionally hit well
seems to be a substitute
for success as memory
substitutes for kids
I didn’t know well
enough to still be friends.