You and I
sat on the front stoop
in August
with cold beer,
watching boys on the corner
brawl over new sneaks.

Our hearts sighed
while remembering
the good days.
In our time
we didn’t give a damn hoot
about fancy shoes.

Then you barked,
“Those days weren’t so sweet.
We did some
stupid shit
that stole far more than our pride.”
For those boys, we prayed.