Stomping Grounds

A Poem by Max Smetanick - Find Max on Instagram at maxxipaddy_daddy

Photo by Evan Clark on Unsplash

This was where we learned to hit home runs, 
This is where we learned to spit with our 
throats and not our mouths.

This is when we learned to give Ma 
and Pa the first two cups of coffee first. 

Where we found out how to hold 5th gear 
and hold guns. 
This is where we found out what was a lie 
and what we decided was real. 

This is where we scraped our first knees
and got lost in the backyard. 

This is how we found out what a 
broken young heart was 
and how it felt to swallow knives. 

When we got involved and where we got isolated.
This is when we had to eat humble 
pie more than apple, 
rhubarb, 
or blueberry. 

This is where we trapped fireflies in 
mason jars 
and watched them die in the jar. 
Where we swam naked for 
entertainment and where we dried 
like fruit on the shore's borders. 

These are the places we raced our 
feet in the forest, 
coming up short and coming in last. 
Tasting the dirt kicked up in your 
mouth. 

This is how we learned what a real 
dry throat felt like, 
How it felt to be dehydrated in the 
summer. 

This is when we learned to drink 
from hoses and not from the breast.
This is where we got picked last 
in gym class. 

How we learned what it was like 
to be the loser, 
and reflect unfamiliar feelings. 

This is how we learned to close our 
eyes when it wouldn't go away. 
This is where we learned to keep 
quiet when hiding in the shadows. 

This is where we wound up in 
teenage basements. 
Stumbling in the fresh 2 AM air with 
stolen beer, and eighteen year old 
sweat. 

This is how we learned to speak 
language with our eyes. 
How we got close enough to smell 
their breath and touch their parts. 

This is how our heart sounded when 
it cried. 
This is how we learned to wake up 
from the dreams, 
and how we had to dismiss the 
nightmares that changed our 
premature brains. 

This is when we found out the 
friends in our dreams were never 
returning. 

How we learned to forget them and 
ignore them. 

This is where I give up and fall into 
tiny leather pieces. 
This is wh