Lexington

I could not find my idyllic childhood

here in this place that claims its name

and has usurped its place on the map.

They have kept the Green,

the statue of the Minuteman

but my home was not this

conservatory covered cream pastiche.

Mine had white clapperboard,

Green shutters, a smile.

My school is dilapidated and sad

not upmarket condominiums.

I sneak into the gardens,

put my hand on the brick

where we played snakey-snakey.

The heat and the humidity

are just the same,

and make me glad

for the first time

that now I live 

in the cool wet rain of Wales.