1986, upstate New York: the year Grossinger’s boarded up.
No need for a Catskill glory resort when well-to-dos now
Bought their own vacation homes, flew to Miami
And Las Vegas or drove to the outer banks
Where no toupéed comedians hosted games
Of Simon Says or horseshoes on the grass.
Nintendo happened. Then Play Station.
That year I turned fourteen and discovered
The end to another something:
Davey, who napped bent-legged in extra large camp shorts.
The view puzzled me,
A bulb of wrinkled skin lay against his inner thigh,
A wattle of flesh in excess of some border.
Years later the scene made sense,
When I learned what commando meant.
But at fourteen, I shuddered in nighttime prayer,
Lord, please take away his tumor.