what a tricky word freedom. who defines it, is it a feeling? as a kid it was greased watermelon deep ends of pools, chlorine. don't really remember fireworks; sparklers and snap its. my brothers love of matches. setting off an entire pack, a reward. gold stars. odd kids, gangs of us, wandering by the edge of pools. watched closely, by other kids, the life guards. meanwhile, at the clubhouse. all the black skin, buttoned up. collared in white, oxford cloth. yes, mam, to me, seven. *i'd rather watch the bees, then acknowledge its been 42 years and not much has changed except my perception.
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