First thing, first summer morning,
Mom pulled the Impala into the
Main Street, Timberland Library,
Downsloping diagonal parking.
The thick shake-shingle front, long since
But for 1970s us, a damp doorway
Into vast, uncharted worlds.
A long block up to the District Courthouse
Opposite, down and to the right, past my
Father’s school district office
Then left, Fleet park.
Across Pioneer Avenue the post office
Where our 249 box puzzle fit
With our 249 phone prefix
And I had a key.
Another doorway, opening onto
Grandparents cards plus checks
Military school boy letters
My home was
Five miles from any of this.
A trip to town,