Girl-kid

Mostly my stale brain
tries to recollect, in vain,
memories gone by

the wayside, it seems
(unless in a dream). Although
today, I recall

that sweltering sun,
that scorching Verano heat.
And of course, no breeze.

“Is Andrew busy?”
politely asks she, the sweet
girl-kid from next door.

Like any good mom,
mine beckons her indoors. She
pours a glass of wine

for herself, water
for this girl-kid. I run to
the kitchen and, with

girl-kid in hand, we
make for the sand, just behind
Thomas’ empty lot.

We arrive, we gore
the ground with shovels we stored
here the day before

we started. Digging deep
as moles with claws and buckteeth,
we have just one goal:

China. Though it seems
impossible to grown-ups,
we dig. And dig. And

dig. But after just
an hour like a week, we head
inside for a drink

exhausted, beat up
totally demoralized.
Give up? Keep digging?

No grownups now, so
we’re on our own. So we sit.
We drink. We wonder.

And think. And at last
accept that China is there,
and we are just here,

sweating. I realize two
things more. One, girl-kids sweat too.
Two, China is far.

And now, a student of
liberal arts, I start to
collect these musings

of past times, longings
to be somewhere else, and find
their solace soothing.

For if I had not
made these memories, would I
want to see the world?

No! I thank my past
for current travels…many
thanks to Sweet Girl-Kid.