Back in Time

Sixty-four

Minus

Fifty

Equals

Fourteen.

While pushing skates

(Left, right, left, right)

And panting hard

(In, out, in, out),

Part of me is back there,

Fourteen again.

I’m hypnotized,

Carried through time,

To half a century ago.

Gliding smooth,

I forget

Old age tension, stiffness,

Burning ankles,

And my own skull-cracking injury

Of several years ago.

For several round trips

Around the rink

Amnesia erases

Thoughts of an incident

When my friend 

Broke her wrist.

I’m free, younger than I am,

Light but strong,

Smooth-sailing.

But recollection taps

My shoulder

Like a bony finger

Until I remember

Those episodes

Of ice-inflicted pain,

And wonder 

At the wisdom

Of thin silver blades 

Beneath me.

Hesitancy’s finger beckons;

I shrug it off,

Choosing strict attention

And careful speed

Over fear.

Meanwhile, Old Man Winter

Stands sentinel

Over the lake,

Quietly holding it

In cupped, frozen hands,

Breathing an icy wind

That sweeps my warm breath

And carries it,

Chilled in white gusts,

To the

Far side of the lake.

In mid-stride

As I skate the rink’s perimeter,

A masked man

Bearing Winter’s image

Threatens a holdup,

But his eyes smile

And he offers

A thermal mug

Of Hazlenut coffee

Instead.

I remove the skates

And plunge icy toes

Into cold boots,

Then sit lakeside with

The only other person I know

Who understands being

Swept back in time

At the lake.