A skate board
we found in a ditch;
blue plastic in chips
and slivers - rusted
trucks - crusted wheels.

You made it glide
like an eagle ray
crosses the sea floor.

It has been ten years
and many boards since,
but if I could watch
you ride just one
it would be
the blue, the first
to turn the streets
to glass.

Poetry


© 1998 Leslie Laurence