When we were kids.

I was a child once, living on the second
floor with fast-food smells from the shop
below. In between chanting the seven times
table saying seven sevens are forty-nine

I would run up Mannerwell Drive, up the
steep incline and would re-enact those old
wars against dragons and ghosts with
our cardboard cut-out proton packs.

Joshua would run with arms outstretched
Dirtying the floors, his mum who only
Mopped it ten minutes ago. But she knew
we were shot to a distant planet.

Those years I look upon, with rent to pay
on the Thursday and my mouth to feed.
We became different people, older people
Playing battles in mid-lunch meetings

Youthful dreams resigned to a moody night
Where our faces glazed to a windscreen
Cruising through a thought cul-de-sac
Of roads remembered and hazy faces.
.
Who told us we couldn’t fly? I guess it
was the scientists who churned the numbers
“Sorry that’s impossible” they said. Wait
we said. Our arms raised to show our wings.


Haymond Lam. Copyright 2009. Published on EditRed.