wandering Cicero In the backyard we take to the fence like squirrels up trees (scurrying up dry wood). Watch out for the neighbor- he might poison the dogs. Charge through the yard out the iron gate onto Beatty and suddenly I’m far away from home (though only one street). The sun peeps through trees as I gaze up and walk to the corner while you gaze down counting the cement squares. At the corner I buy candy to ruin my appetite. You wait outside watching the people spill gasoline on the asphalt at the pumps. Back by Antone’s we pass the shady men. They sit in their grunge wondering where their wandering days went. 021219 what's it to you? who go blather from