Green burrs grow there,
dandelions & weeds I can't name.
Cigarette butts & candy wrappers
catch low in the chain link fence.
You have to look up 
to see what it meant
to me all those years ago.

Look up to the wide dry space,
for running, walking, daydreaming
a life of an adult you (never this one).

Look back to the line 
of live oak trees along the fence,
thick shade for boyhood
summer days

and cover for stolen embraces
on the thin flannel sheet you didn't know
she had in her trunk.

Nobody saw you that night.
Nobody sees what you saw
back there back then.