I loved my muddy Slip'n Slide
when I was but a grungy kid,
ambitions never satisfied
until my mom would hence forbid
my setting foot inside the door.
My friends and I would slide until
you couldn't fathom who was who,
our clothing drenched in turbid swill,
green lawn became a viscous slough
that wasn't grassy anymore.
In summer when the rain's lukewarm,
with sewers threatening to flood,
I long to chase the surging storm,
and search for sidewalks filled with mud,
to slip 'n slide like years before.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.