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I was chased by a dog past the bleachers
I loved being chased 
the dog never won. 
I wore corduroy pants in rust and mittens. 
Each according to the Sears catalogue. 
I was a Brownie then 
and my uniform might have also been from the Sears catalogue 
Everything came from the Sears catalogue.
Any girl could be a Brownie 
with a sash and handbook and Mom with a big green car. A badge of honor. 
We played Brownie games outside in the leaves. 
It was fall. 
We made Christmas decorations from pine cones and acorns and ran Red Rover on the lawn of a church. 
I was a one season Brownie and that was it
It seemed too easy to me.
I was a Brownie in an overcoat, gold tights and heavy shoes. 
Back then 
Fall opened the window on frozen and then the world sparkled frost. 
The moon was your guide. 
Stars became your friends. 
Write it down.
Life was colder then and clearer. 
The dogs ran through your backyard 
they passed under that moon right by your swingset and the lawn chairs out beyond their season. 
Dogs on the brink of some other neighborhood. 
Saturday morning…
Friday night. 
Hounds will hunt 
We are all weekend hounds. 
Teeth and fences, voices. Running.
Corduroy pants and mittens. 
According to the Brownie handbook we should all live by the Girl Scout law.
After school snacks and leaves, pinecone crafts, a sash and a brown beret. 
A handbook. 
Anyone can do it. 
Any one. 

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