Stinky Park

That’s what we always called it.
Sure, we lived near the water treatment facility,
but we didn’t FEEL like
people who lived near the water treatment facility.

It was mostly a place for kisses.
Young, sweaty kisses and cheap cologne and
prayers to God about pregnancy after the first time
even though she didn’t and I didn’t.

I almost bit off my tongue while sledding there
with my brother and sister. I remember trudging back home
the same way I remember so many other things,
which is to say not at all.

I went back here and there over the years,
like the time we played Frisbee after rehab.
I even showed my kids around,
though they didn’t seem to feel the lingering magic.

Today I searched it on Google Earth,
but I couldn’t see the details through the trees.
Still, I’m sure we’re there on the swings,
or slumped against the handball wall no one ever used.

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