Matthew Jablonski

If I Were You

In Ely Square we throw a football

in soft grass.  The clock ticks softly

and he asks, If I were you, what would I be?

and I tell him, I don’t know.

His small face is a question

as he catches the ball arms to chest.

If I were you, I would win, he says

answering his face.

Well, I guess you’re right,

I reply, unsure of myself,

as I catch the ball

in the last of autumn sun.