Summer Of 89'

You left a love letter chalk-outlined
in the middle of Quincy and Lexington ave.

Right where our parents parents
used to play hopscotch with slave bones.

20-feet above it your heart was found dangling
like a gold chain from a white noose-knotted
shoelace bowline tied to a power line.

The neighborhood kids played cops & robbers
underneath it everyday that summer without
looking up once. You would of thought they
had an iron ball & chain shackled to their necks.

That was the summer your heart
became a mistletoe for His kiss of death.

Just maybe once upon a time guns were boom boxes.
And revolutions were fair-skinned babies everybody
wanted to have.

But something happened...
Someone lost hope...
Somebody forgot...

© Sulē Cerdan 2014