1958 Poem by Judy L. Brekke

my toes tingled
with prickly pins
cotton balls wedged
between them
I walked without feet

we would fight
arms pulled
legs kicked
me and my friend with
black cropped hair

bill cosby LP blared
as her brothers
and sister
cheered our wrestling
on rough grey carpet

her dad in white apron
red spotted
blood of meats
stained the counter
of his 'mom & pop' market

her mother drank beer
in local bowling alley
balls clunked and spun
pinball bells wailed
smoke circled overhead

bald babies sat
in screen cages
poked and prodded
chubby arms
buddha bodies

we slept outside
sparking fireflies darted
heat lightening simmered
in moist summer night
no one spoke

except frogs croaked
in darkness of summer mist

and my toes tingled



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