We ran the earthly pastures then,
the alleyways, the city park,
spurning sunlit paths of men,
finding wonder after dark.

On garbage cans we leapt and sang
in shadows of dark tenements.
Our West Side Story voices rang
beyond the poor day's sluggard sense.

We crossed the park in deepest night,
stammering out philosophy
love, pain-derived: hard-won insight,
as cooling currents fanned us free.

The holy grail of youth we bore
in innocence toward manhood's door.

c 2004 by Max Reif