The ball bounces against the crack of the drive
Two little girls laugh as they miss the backward shot.
Dusk disappears like their childhood
A pass, a shot, another miss.
Tired feet, legs, and arms are ready for a rest
One more shot and it’s time to go in
Heaviness fills the air as they head for the door
Their gaze falls upon a man.
Bulbous bags full of bar soap, weighing down his frail filthy body
Muscles like ice.
The man stands still in the neighbor’s drive
Feet like cement.
His eyes cling to the front door
Like a child to a mother’s hip.
A shared stare, an intrusion
Curious children, curious no more.
Silent screams fill their lungs as the man pursues them
His filthy toes float above the asphalt.
He moves forward demanding their attention
They follow him.
Stop! Says the sign
As he moves through it.