Jimmy

was not like
other poor boys
I knew -- not from
the other side
of the tracks but
lived on dump
road where trucks
and horse-pulled
wagon loads
of junk joined other

smelly garbage –
past houses rather
sort of shacks from
which children
watched through
windows of grime
their dirt covered
faces anxious
to check out the
latest loot to take
home and upgrade
the furniture -- to
decorate a junky
home. Soon enough

children arrived
feet covered
in all sizes – bare
on a cobblestone
of broken cans
and mixed debris –
heaping refuse
cause for joy
hunting treasure
treats for mom.

(c) Richard L. Provencher