son spreads knee blood into sandbar &/or
sidewalk chalk.
mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt
or not.
of god & country.
soggy bread
within lunch-bag; snackpack readied.
he skates.

the concussed thrust of booming youth.

to the wolf pack outers.
breathing love of summer,
he is the son drunk on hi-c
& burping.
watching teenaged supersoakers yodel
on a bridge.

son sneaks out late to rationalize
the city's features
under strange light & love of nightly people
boy sculpts body
out of beast & dark corners.
arrives awoken.

so father erects a roofed-flattop in the backyard
with flood lights & electronics;
to shred.
mother rattles the blender,
on kitchen outskirts, vodka breathed
& nearing with hugs.

itched. glossed folds of scar tissue.
the neighborhood pulsates.
satellite dishes tunefork
high-frequency vibrations from outerspace.
& sea-pigeons explode
flying too close.

son's ears bleed, &
the television goes unwatched.
he snaps plank & ankle protein,
refurbishing his legs into iron-rods, or
wands of summer anthem.
cold war.

he empties sugar sweat & toxins,
into storm-drain.
essence of wet heat,
skin pinched, & friend of ghosts.
a three legged dog lays in the shade
leisurely watching boy skate

Coop Lee lives & writes in Idaho. He enjoys beer, liberty, & sacred geometry.