Once Upon a Summer

by Douglas Polk

July remembered from crew-cut days,
cuffs on my jeans,
four inches high,
clothes bought to last the next school year,
terrorists then only a minor worry,
nuclear destruction,
the nightmare imagined,
practice grabbing my knees,
under the desk,
bomb shelters,
in the neighborhoods of the rich kids,
the ones with something to lose,
fistfights over baseball cards,
or baseball stars,
when over,
we would get up and shake hands,
still hating the Yankees with all my heart,
jumping off the river bridge,
wade down past the bend,
in the shallows,
pitchforking catfish,
or the occasional frog for supper,
knowing when I could see the fireflies,
my day was at an end,
once upon a summer.