so many days , so many dawns , so many noon lunches of bologna sandwiches with mustard and raw chopped onion and giant glasses of milk while his mom sat silently in the living room with her bottomless glass of wine , listening to the soap operas on the radio , so many depthless afternoons when sweat grew in the short hedge of your crewcut and then ran down your cheeks , afternoons when the moment you noticed that your blob of a shadow had grown a boy always came as a surprise , so many endless twilights with the sweat cooling away to nothing but smell on your cheeks and forearms while you played tag or red rover or capture the flag ; sounds of bike chains , slots clicking neatly into oiled cogs , smells of honeysuckle and cooling asphalt and green leaves and cut grass , sounds of the slap of baseball cards being laid out on some kid 's front walk , solemn and portentous trades which changed the faces of both leagues , councils that went on in the slow shady tilt of a july evening until the call of `` cliiiive !