“Jim Croce and Karate”

— the two have nothing at all to do
with each other except in my mind
for, when I was a child, I used to sit

at the edge of a small rotunda
within the grounds of a church
to wait for my parents

who would pick me up
in our red pick up truck
after my Karate class in school.

I would wear my white gi
and my legs would dangle over
the white concrete structure.

I would sit beside metal railings
which were twisted and gnarled.
It would always be dark

and I would always be alone,
my confidence more than a little shaken
despite the number of katas

that I have mastered that afternoon.
I would look at the church to my left
and the trees in the middle

of the concrete grounds
and I would inhale the cool evening air.
And then my spirits would soar

the moment our truck came into view.
And my mom, my brother, and myself
would all fit snugly in the front seat

and I would stick my face happily
in front of the air-conditioner while my dad
played Jim Croce in the cassette player.

2 thoughts on ““Jim Croce and Karate”

    1. Hi!

      Thank you very much!

      Yes, I got as far as yellow belt, which is right next to white belt. 😀

      That was a long, long time ago — when I was still in grade school.


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