Thirty-five years ago today, The Dukes of Hazzard first aired on CBS. Although I never watched an episode of this popular show, it became an important part of my childhood. Today, I finally completed this poetic memory about those days on the playground at Central Christian Elementary. This one’s for you, Andy Chin, wherever you may be.
Creative commons, GNU Free Documentation License
The photo captures
the dry, windy playground.
Where is the place
it held for the crippled girl
and her Chinese friend?
Most of all in these United States,
the Chinese boy loved
The Dukes of Hazzard—memorized
every line, recreated
every scene with other children
as pawns upon the playground,
moving as he directed (he was,
of course, the sheriff—what
dipstick wouldn’t obey).
One by one, the children tired
of his game, left
for swing sets, softball and kick-the-can,
until he stood alone
scuffing his shoes in the dust.
Wailing like a siren, he would pause
to chat with his Daisy,
still sitting where he had left her
on the schoolroom steps.
Time has scarcely faded
my mental snapshot
of that bumbling sheriff
and his adoring, crumpled Daisy.
Being MG 