-The man in the moon / part one-

––I’m the first son born

to the liquor salesman on the road

and the inner hatband stitcher.

I’m nephew to the great cobbler,

south-end of the city,

nephew to the catholic hymnal soprano,

the younger cousin to her middle son,

the league's hypnotic knuckleballer,

the older cousin to the storefront proprietors

in the artificial floral arrangements trade

accounts receivable from the occupants

of the north-end tenements.

––I’m the friend of the friend departed,

the shortstop defending the gap to center

against the swift Portuguese

who lived out their lives on the distant side of the planet

a few blocks to the west.

––In the evening, the streetlight incandescence

polished the dome-topped roofs

of the standing automobiles,— the heavy

Buicks and Oldsmobiles our fathers

would drive to their daily occupations in the morning.

Quequechan, early 1950s