One Eye Open (Poem 237)

We never wore shoes

in the summertime, or

hardly ever, 

anyway. We ran wild,

clambered through creeks

and the dusty eaves

of each others' houses,

hacked through brambles

and roamed across town

in search of a friend,

or a swim, or a perfect,

ripe peach whose honey-

sweet juice would gush

like love over our chins

and hands. And all 

the time, we were barefoot,

keeping one eye open

for glass shards glinting

in the hard sun, and 

the other open for glimpses

of the women we would become.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

El Camino Real, Burlingame, CA

Photo: Wikipedia Commons