Herbie told Marty and me.
That’s when the dream ended.
We are graduates from apartments
At 2134 Homecrest
Avenue, Brooklyn.
Marty lived on the fourth, Herbie and I on the fifth.
From six to sixteen this was home,
And I have relived many a silly or pathetic story
Since I moved and aged.
Knowing its been sixty years did not deaden the shock
When Marty wrote back to Herbie
“Jerry, wasn’t he a quiet little kid”?
I don’t really remember him.”
Why the hell should I remember Marty?
Because he was the most popular kid in our building?
Girls liked him, we guys liked him, and …
He doesn’t remember me.
How much of my recall is pure fantasy?
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