Do I know you, old friend? You were taken<\/p>\n
off our asphalt ballgame expanse<\/p>\n
where Sorrento and Parma roads met<\/p>\n
before we were ten, to the North,<\/p>\n
Edmonton, off my map of the world,<\/p>\n
before Oswald shot Kennedy. Then,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
you\u2019ve told me, it was 40 below<\/p>\n
when you landed without a coat, and found<\/p>\n
that town\u2019s kids could be heartless<\/p>\n
as Philly\u2019s where I stayed with Robert\u2019s<\/p>\n
and Elliott\u2019s fists in my face. No escape<\/p>\n
for either of us. Maybe you had more<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
boredom up in that numbing cold,<\/p>\n
a near-paralytic stillness of frozen<\/p>\n
lakes, cruel monotony of conifers<\/p>\n
far as the mind could wander, a father<\/p>\n
who knew only to quietly toughen you,<\/p>\n
thicken your hide, and couldn\u2019t. Maybe<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I wound up more anaesthetized<\/p>\n
by barrage, the din of the Market<\/p>\n
Street pinball arcades, the ringing<\/p>\n
thunder of bowling balls smashing<\/p>\n
the pins under 54th<\/sup> Street, under<\/p>\n the roar of the one massive hungry kvetch<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n in the delicatessen above the lanes,<\/p>\n the howl of the great complaint<\/p>\n that was the real American anthem,<\/p>\n deafening song of never enough<\/p>\n belonging. I\u2019d drift to its screech<\/p>\n refrains on the El down to 69th<\/sup>. How<\/p>\n <\/p>\n was it for you? And do you know me,<\/p>\n after all these seasons, your silences<\/p>\n lonely as endless tundra, my screaming<\/p>\n riots of rights marches and acid rock<\/p>\n horror shows? Can we be the friends<\/p>\n we are? You\u2019ve welcomed me<\/p>\n <\/p>\n into your house, I see the boy<\/p>\n in the lift of your brow, that considerate<\/p>\n set of your mouth you learned<\/p>\n from your mother, and how you wait<\/p>\n for the kid\u2019s heart to come out and color<\/p>\n the keys when you\u2019re about to play<\/p>\n <\/p>\n something for us on piano. You must<\/p>\n pick up on my frightened original<\/p>\n innocence in the blurt-and-pause<\/p>\n of my city-punk talk. And yesterday<\/p>\n when we ambled along the shore toward the old<\/p>\n observatory you showed me, I heard you<\/p>\n <\/p>\n wonder as purely as who you were<\/p>\n when we sat on the swings in my yard<\/p>\n and joked, both of us already lost<\/p>\n forever, bedazzled alike under sky<\/p>\n wider than thought, secretly jazzed<\/p>\n to be recognized by one another.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Do I know you, old friend?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":3002,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[6,331,779,780,781],"class_list":["post-3001","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry","tag-aquifer-the-florida-review-online","tag-friendship","tag-jed-myers","tag-old-friends","tag-reunion-ode"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n