Red light, green light.(Poem)(Brief article)

 
Night in the valley softens edges. Heat 
and tempers cool, noises fade. One by one, 
we drift from living rooms and bedrooms 
to our front yards. Helen and Jack; Satch, Shorty, 
PeeWee; me and my two brothers. Sometimes 
we huddle at the side of our yard 
beneath the guava, scaring ourselves 
with one horror story after another. 
Retellings of la llorona and Dracula shift 
from one voice to the next, mixed language, 
slipped cultures. This night, restless 
after a torpid afternoon and too-thick dinner, 
we choose to play. Not hide-and-seek. 
The tall grasses in the lot across the street 
make us sneeze. The shed holds black widows. 
So Satch goes first: red light, green light. 
He stands at the fence, back to us, skin  ...