I recall the halcyon
Of inviolable youth
When life
Stretched out before us
As an infinite loop of fun
While pain and suffering
Seemed ephemeral
As an all-better kiss
And adulthood perceived
As a condition of denial
That play is anything but
A full-time endeavour
Long since has that glitter faded
Pain and suffering
Joined now as companions
But little desire has this adult
To deny a child
The pleasure of play
Rather play along
Perhaps to live again
The golden lie
Of youth
Boys will be Boys
Sanur
Bali, Indonesia
This one seaside gazebo, of a series of five, seemed always occupied by one small crew of local boys or another. Like the young crowd I once rallied around the suburbs of New Jersey with in elementary school. Our banana-seat bicycles with high bars our magic carpets for roaming the neighbourhood yards and parks, with baseball mitts or footballs tucked under our arms or in handlebar baskets.
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