The Number Three (day 634)

Imagine the shallows of tepid water
Wading through with no regard
And tiny snowblowers buzzing in the background
Reminding you of childhood horrors
In the year of the Rat
With Chinese food at the local diner
Chopsticks and good year fortunes
Like hockey cards and good luck pitchers
Walking two by three down sloppy roads
Three crammed in the back of an ol’ pickup truck
The bumpy way from ice cream to the lookout
With sand banks and long lobs
Exploding in magical madness
Imagine all the broken bike tires
Lost pucks and dead tennis balls
Bounced bald flat basketballs
And the advent of the GameBoy
All within view of this
Tepid water swaying about your
Soaking feet wading through
Mysteries of histories

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