of marbles and muck

He fussed about with marbles and jacks. Blue suspenders and all, though he dared not react. The fact that today his marbles down the drain rolled. From his perch upon the curb, the boy sat slightly perturbed. His father’s gift now hunckered below cement and sewage. Try as he might to save his marbles, to no avail. Short arms just won’t travel the distance between he and his marbly dream. A stick catches his eye. No opposable thumb keeps that marble well run dry. Stuck in the muck, the sun sheds its last light on him.

Running from flat to drain at the first morning spark. No change, all remains the same for the blue-suspendered boy and his marbly toy. Several ditch efforts to regain what seems now to be lost: a funnel, some paper and glue, a lasso just won’t do. Just out of fingertips reach, the marbles settle into a gooey mess. Dirty suspenders weigh down burdened shoulders sluffing down the street.

A jack game across the street has drifted to boredom. Three eye pairs stare down street at lurching suspenders. Sudden compulsion moves plaid arms and jeans to action as a sprint ensues. Closing the distance, suspenders turn into time to see arms flailing about. “Hey you, whatcha use?” The boy stopped, stared, signaled over here and there. “What about these?” points out the plaid-clad lad. A grin hits the chin of this small suspendered fella. This good news that arms reach longer and farther loosens the suspenders, freeing his shoulders, filling with hope that all is not lost. Suspenders lead plaids to the region of despair. Points out the junky miry mess then sits back to let plaid to the rest. Arms elongate down to into the abyssy carmeled lie. Marbled-eye looks on in hopeful antinicipatory emancipation. Pulling out cloggy marbles one by one, suspenders sag tugged by trouser’s pockets.

Out of the mess arises the plaid hope turned joy of the now smiling contendedly, suspendered boy.