Raccoon by Wayne F. Burke

Pee Wee football practice
had ended
and I waited
under the spotlight
at the entrance to the field
for Gramp to come
pick me up
but he did not
and it got dark
then darker
the silent black night
the mountain in front of me
high peak in purple sky
I climbed a roadside tree
and watched a car
its red and yellow lights
go past and
down the street
and I heard car doors shut
and a voice
“look! It is a raccoon!”
and a rock came out
of the shadows
and flew past my head
and then I heard the door of the house shut
as the people went inside
and I climbed down
and stood
holding my useless helmet
and waiting
for the big black Buick
to come up the road,
Gramp driving;
a sheepish smile on his face,
a mumbled apology.

Wayne F. Burke’s poetry has appeared in a variety of publications (including “In Between Hangovers”). His three published poetry collections, all from Bareback Press, are WORDS THAT BURN, DICKHEAD, and KNUCKLE SANDWICHES. His chapbook PADDY WAGON is published by Epic Rites Press. He lives in Vermont.

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