DREAM VAN ON HOLME AVENUE #2
It was Thursday afternoons,
my memory tells me this,
and it was four o’clock,
though I only felt four
in the wintry time, bare hands clutching books,
and I was reading history
and Tod Moran, who was a child pirate
or something like that,
and Sherlock Holmes and Shakespeare
and maybe something about sports,
which I read more successfully then played,
and I would spend an hour there,
looking for this week’s dreams.
This was decades before I would turn twelve,
and discover the Beatles and girls
and politics and girls
and the sixties and girls
and other topics best left to other, older poems.
Forty years later I’ve created my own Bookmobile
where we live.
We read every night still trying to learn new dreams
and appreciations, and variations
of the old ones.
From the 1993 Anthology of
The Philadelphia Poetry Forum