We laughed
in the schoolyard
comparing stories
and welts
trying to win
a losing game
of one upmanship titled,
“What you get beat with?”

Of hiding under beds when
extension cords found
hands and face.
The double signature of
a Hot Wheels track.

Or standing in the corner
for hours … waiting.

When that silhouette fell
across the door frame,
and that long leather
dragged over the floor,
you listened for
buckle rattling, bouncing,
as a warm stream plastered
pajamas to leg,
and nobody was laughing
anymore.

M. Zane McClellan

Copyright 2015
All rights reserved

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