Richard L. Matta
Connections
Summer’s a few days away, and the teacher hands each of us ten-year-old kids a fill in the blanks outlined firetruck. We’re each given a set of crayons. Schoolmate Cynthia’s colors are unforgettably rich in their red, as if she painted them. I’m not jealous, my crush on her deepens. That summer, I overhear my parents mention a young boy volunteer fireman fell off a firetruck on the way to a false alarm and died. Two years later, a pre- adolescent, I’m hanging out with the wrong crowd. A friend says he’s calling the fire department as a prank. I warn him not to, and while I’m outside playing, a firetruck shows up. I never speak to him again and make a new set of bookworm friends. Through all of high school, Cynthia ignores me. It’s a small town. The young boy fireman was her brother.
town pond… a ladder truck bungee jumper taps the water rippling gossip
About the Author
Richard L. Matta grew up in New York’s Hudson Valley, attended university, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego. Some of his haiku, tanka and haibun are in Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Akitsu Quarterly, Bottle Rockets and Presence. His long-form poetry is found in various journals, including Gyroscope, Dewdrop, Ancients Path and Healing Muse.