Minding your Ps and Qs, Ken O'Toole,

Geronimo

I remember the plastic soldiers
With parachutes
Launched as high
As my arms could throw
Hers could throw higher
Taller
Laughing
As they spin downwards
Faster
Hurtling
In the backyard
On summer days

It’s winter now
In this backyard
Chain smoking
Cigarettes with my sister
To the silent chagrin
Of mother still inside

And I realize we haven’t spoken in years
Like this
Laughing

But the wind is dying
And it won’t be long
Till we hit the ground