There’s a universal roughness in the urchin years
a stark collision of freedom and neglect
that cuts across continents
Street-smart lads learn early on
an uncanny knack for reconnaissance
spotting weakness like distracted parents
slipping away unnoticed and nicking
everything from typewriters to fresh milk
Even the Amish let their boys run wild
these scenes recur in Stanley
Cherry Hill and Hampton Park
but nowhere better than 1950s Paris
Are we shocked?
Do we miss it?
Inspired by Poetry on Wednesday prompt for the classic 1959 French film Les Quatre Cents Coups