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| The Cleaver Family |
No Leave it to Beaver
Summer, I lie in my bedroom in an ordinary 1950's neighborhood.
Yellow, second floor, hot in summer, screen windows open, ready
access to sights and sounds up and down the block.
Next door neighbor Howie drives into his driveway late again,
another night of carousing, cheats on his wife, everyone knows,
and one day Roseanne cried as she explained her black eye.
Larry and Margaret, on the other side, have no children, but have dogs
and sometimes wild parties. The priest visits, says they should
have children, as if it was his business. Those were the days..
Teen-aged Jackie across the street sits in a car with a boy again.
One time she lived away from home for a few months, no explanation,
no questions asked, but she would graduate with her high school class.
Down the block Charles is twenty-five years older than Virginia.
Two sons, both with different features. Younger son born when Charles
was sixty-five looks like the children of the florist who often visits.
The bedroom is hot. If only I could sleep. I wish life really was like
it is in Leave it to Beaver. Every house has a story I can see from
my window. Here comes another car. I'll see where it goes.
