Always boy
Red rubber balls smell always of summer,
of asphalt and jumping, sweat, cheating and mirth.
The bounce — a bold fracture of chaos and planning
spins outcome and circumstance into a mass
of possible endings: a run through the lavender;
loss in a sewer pipe; climb to the roof.
Watch it blomp merrily, picking up dew and grit
snaking through dust until finally still.
Only in others or over long memory is there a line
between child and man.
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