Grape Slurpee

roller skating late in the evening

two boys glide across the wavy concrete like surfers.

ten small wheels rolling them away

from their mother’s doublewide 

adjacent to the long airstrip.

the tallest boy caught briefly in time 

as a small stone

sends his lanky form airborne, 

loose sweatshirt like a cape

suspending him for a glorious moment

before arriving heavily on the curb, palms first 

discarding his newly lit cigarette. 

“f**k, man.”

A grape slurpee is more effective 

than gauze and bandages

in the reconstruction of 

his bruised pride.

seated on the curb as cars pass by too closely,

the two boy’s invisible moment of meditation

is broken only by slurping and the ticking made by 

flicking bottle caps into a storm drain.

a melody, 

sustained by seven-eleven, scraped knees, and skate videos.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing writer.
"loose sweatshirt like a cape
suspending him for a glorious moment
before arriving heavily on the curb, palms first
discarding his newly lit cigarette. "
The above lines were my favorite. I liked the photo and your good description brought to life the situation. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote