Ballou Park, 1978

One was born with fire,
the other with light.
Fire had tried to cling to Light,
desparate to keep him,
but knowing that Light always fades
and Fire always dwindles

It began and ended in a time
when bowling alleys and parks
were the places to be if you were rad
enough to get or have
“Greased Lightning.”

Light was a golden badass
with and Irish temper,
a wannabe Danny
with ebony intentions and a Zeppo approach.

He met Fire in Ballou Park,
in the summer or ‘78.
She couldn’t see past
the sunshine hair and ocean-kissed eyes.

After seven years of storms
which culminated in a child,
“love” migrated south for the winter
and stayed there.

To Mother, he was a forgettable fling.
But to me, he was a great invisible father.