Always Something

Always Something

It’s always something. A word, a phase, a song. Maybe a springtime breeze, the smell of a dog, the look in a boy’s face. Always. A time of year, a season,

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Surviving the High Dive

The sun shines, the breeze breezes and the temperature temps. But the keyboard calls so I sit at the picture window watching life in 3-D. Happy behind glass, it’s National Sibling Day.

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The Tree Fort

Kids talked back then. We’d sit under the street light, sometimes on someone’s stoop when their old man wasn’t drinking a bottle of Shlitz, and sometimes in our tree fort.

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