Joey Next-Door and I would sit
on the porch steps
at my house with the lawn.
While I read a book with thick pages
and a bite-proof cover,
he'd dress up my dress-up doll.
Billy Down-the-Block would gather guys
for games with balls,
throwing them through hoops,
against the curb, against each other—
He'd let me chase strays
and underhand toss them back.
Steve Across-the-Street would do tricks
on his two-wheeler boy's bike
and I'd clap my hands.
Sometimes he'd ride me around
in Davy Diagonally-Over's little red wagon
with the yellow wheels.
Timmy Two-Houses-Away played
Punch and Judy circus
with my garage's
Daddy-built puppet theater.
He'd help me mix Kool-Aid
to sell from my hot-tar driveway.
Moms cooked and cleaned and pushed strollers
They'd flock around the post and rail,
chain link, and white picket fences;
talk about kids;
keep an eye out for passing cars;
and other sunny-day disasters.
Dads came home with briefcases
or calloused hands
by bus, train, or car—
our cue to come inside.
On a day when it rained,
Billy Down-the-Block,
Steve Across-the-Street,
Davy Diagonally-Over,
Timmy Two-Houses-Away, and
my little-girl self, rotated into
Joey Next-Door,
Nick Next-Door, and
Don Next-Door's basement.
Their Mom was upstairs vacuuming
with the TV turned way up
talking "I Love Lucy" reruns.
We were building the Best-Invention-Yet
with a super-deluxe engineering erector set.
I was going to run home, even if it was
still cats-and-dogs raining,
and go potty, then come right back, but—
They told me I was a big girl and
should go in the Next Door's basement bathroom.
Steve Across-the-Street blocked the steps to upstairs.
Don Next-Door said, "Take off all your clothes."
Billy Down-the-Steet said, "All the boys have to watch."
Davy Diagonally-Over said, "Look, girls pee wierd."
Joey Next-Door touched me.
Timmy Two-Houses-Away made me touch it.
Nick Next-Door made me kiss it.
When I couldn't cry anymore,
they finished the Best-Invention-yet.
I stepped up the steps upstairs,
past Mrs. Next-Door's ironing board
and "As the World Turns";
through the Next-Door's front door,
into the rain, and
before a normal
Mom, Dad, and kids dinner
secretly stole my last little-girl nap.