Your world comes alive
in a 1960 snapshot with scalloped edges.
against a pizzeria window;
your hair blonde, your arms muscular;
a Marlboro pack
stuffed in your t‑shirt sleeve.
Avenue night moves out of your eyes,
bobbing your shoulders
on the stride's bright Friday.
Your smile's shining hood rides
its chrome indian over the lines
and under the lights. You rode
into the radio's high ride
the ideal teenage swerving Chevy,
American through and through,
riding the hard
roaring faith of an engine
into the fire. Police lights
stained the trees as firemen
hosed the road. All those sparkling shards
of glass baptized
in brother blood.