A Note To Bowman

Passing the Polish church on Metropolitan Avenue,
Our Lady of Consolation
the easy days
come back,
fifteen years away
our nests buzzing hard
between South 2nd and South 1st
Thursday to Monday, Anyday
and the long mornings battling,
a soccer ball,
soccer and tennis and handball rules,
hours of Bjorg and McEnroe,
unemployed champions
driven back to the playground
each day
for a length of well earned bragging,
then the cold today
at the bottom of the steps of Our Lady
snaps me back
when I catch
that
the man walking by
has no arms at all.