Porch Poem by bob barci

The warm spring evening
forces everyone out to the porch.
The neighbors yell over
with a loud hello.
Cars zip by on the busy street
with radios loud enough to wake the dead.
The two old men next door
talk about days gone by.
Two shirtless young men walk by
flexing their muscles, as if to
impress someone, or see who has the
better physique for the beach that summer.
Across the street,
a mother has difficulty
keeping the kids out of the street,
and away from the watering hose.
I appear to be in a trance
as I take in these sights
and watch the blue of the sky
deepen, with passing time.
Some neighborhood kids gather
at the corner deli for whatever purpose.
Noise from the side street
indicates some kind of ball game.
I remember evenings like this from my youth.
Running around trying to catch lightening bugs,
looking up at the star’s from the roof of a neighbor’s garage,
camping out in the backyard.
Where have these days gone?
Nowhere, actually.
They’re still here.
I’m just looking at them
from an older angle.