IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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AUTHORS


THE SLEEPER

Edward Field

When I was the sissy of the block who nobody wanted on their team Sonny Hugg persisted in believing that my small size was an asset Not the liability and curse I felt it was And he saw a use for my swift feet with which I ran away from fights. He kept putting me into complicated football plays Which would have been spectacular if they worked: For instance, me getting clear in front of him and shooting the ball over-- Or the sensation of the block, the Sleeper Play In which I would lie down on the sidelines near the goal As though resting and out of action, until the scrimmage began And I would step onto the field, receive the long throw And to the astonishment of all the tough guys in the world Step over the goal line for a touchdown. That was the theory anyway. In practice I had the fatal flaw of not being able to catch And usually had my fingers bend back and the breath knocked out of me So the plays always failed, but Sonny kept on trying Until he grew up out of my world into the glamorous Varsity crowd, the popular kids of Lynbrook High. But I will always have this to thank him for: That when I look back on childhood (That four psychiatrists haven't been able to help me bear the thought of) There is not much to be glad for Besides his foolish and delicious faith That, with all my oddities, there was a place in the world for me If only he could find the special role.


A BILL TO MY FATHER

Edward Field

I am typing up bills for a firm to be sent to their clients. It occurs to me that firms are sending bills to my father Who has that way an identity I do not often realize. He is a person who buys, owes, and pays, Not Papa like he is to me. His creditors reproach him for not paying on time With a bill marked, "Please Remit." I reproach him for never having showed his love for me But only his disapproval. He has a debt to me too Although I have long since ceased asking him to come across; But in this impersonal world of business He can be communicated with; With absolute assurance of being paid The boss writes, "Send me my money" And my father sends it.

 
 
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