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.