Two Things I Saved

Two things I Saved

I threw several snow balls at a mean dog
That barked at me from behind a tall chain-link fence
Every time I went to or was leaving Little Gorgie’s,
My second best friend
Who indulged my taste for dog biscuits.
I was on my way home for lunch
Walking down Huron next to J.P. Shimit’s
When Leon, maybe, a colored boy,
The politically incorrect term in the middle fifties,
Placed me horizontally on the sidewalk
And stepped on my face.
Several years older than me,
He convinced me it would be unwise to ever ever
Throw snowballs at his dogs ever again.
After our discussion I ran crying around the corner
Into my cousin Wayne
Who I thought should go beat Leon up.
He maybe told me he was friends with Leon
Cause he wouldn’t beat him up
But gave me one of those little baseball bats
For little kids
That I put under our rotting porch
With the broom handle I was saving for my arch-enemy,
Yudoc, After he wacked me in the side with it
When I wouldn’t give him back his car tire
That we used to sit on
And roll slapping down the sidewalk.