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.
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AuthorJack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. Archives
February 2021
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