911 Baltimore Avenue

 

 

A young black boy

 

      on his mini BMX

 

            waves at me 

​

As I close my car door.

 

      Aiming to impress,

 

            the boy pedals fast

 

into shadows

 

      on the sidewalk.

 

            He pulls up on

 

the handlebars--

 

      the front wheel clipping the lip

 

            of a crack

 

in the neighbor’s sidewalk

 

      uprooted

 

            by a Sugar Maple root

 

sixty-some years ago.

 

      He pulls up harder

 

            the back wheel

 

clips the lip of the crack, too

 

      launching him airborne

 

            into the wake of his inward eye

 

off the coping of a fifteen-foot halfpipe, 

 

       throwing him  

 

               into the evening sky,

 

suspended in grand allégro

 

         and worlds

 

                further abroad.

 

Collectively both tires

 

        clear to the other side

 

                 of the cracked sidewalk.

 

I smile as the boy continues

 

         pedaling down the block

 

                  out of sight,

 

as if he were exiting stage left. 

​

                                    by Johnny M. Tucker, Jr