I suppose summer days
along South Boulevard where it passes in front of the elementary school were no hotter than anywhere else along the Bible Belt and maybe no quieter than any other small town neighborhood at noon in July when kids like me were inside away from the white ambient, shadowless heat under which I rode home from Center Street where The Bike Man lived and steered my own up into the u-shaped driveway toward a pile of glossy magazines, and, kicking with one foot the pages while straddling the crossbar looked around the empty school yard at living room windows and the Antioch Baptist Church across the street trying to decide how to get them out of sight to peruse and perhaps to keep a select one or the other. So I raced home and back again paper bag sailing in the wind returning to that same spot even quieter and more empty than before.
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