the house that Skater Dave built

Heading out the door, taking the toddler to preschool,
I ask the wife if my new hat makes me look fat,
No, she says—your chubby cheeks and double chin do,
Nothing like honesty and truth to dispel my illusions.
She asks when I’ll be back—right after said I,
Well, since its so nice out, I thought you’d go skating,
Not a bad idea at all, I replied, perhaps I will,
Maybe she just needs me out of her hair,
Whatever the reason, whatever the motives,
I gladly take her up on it and stop at the park.
Three college kids were mucking about,
One of them had killer ollies, grinding on the manual pad,
His friends could barely ride on their boards,
Wobbling as they went down the banks,
Brand new set-ups underfoot thanks to the local shop.
Ice crystals were holding on in spots,
Shimmering like broken glass from afar,
Dotting the smooth concrete trannys and hubbas,
And a couple of little puddles stand in the corners,
Out of the way, silent watery obstacles.
Two locals show up and start to rip,
The first does a fifty-fifty up on the wall,
Ten feet off the concrete floor,
Hits the half-round wall and flies over,
Does a kick-flip before landing up on the deck.
His homeboy, wearing chords and a button-up shirt,
Proceeds to drop in and carves all over,
Old school vans in full effect, ollies and flips,
If nothing else, never judge someone by his or her clothes,
Rippers often come incognito, let their skating speak for itself.
I stood around yakking for awhile, as I often do,
So bad with names, but skater number two,
Just got back from a roadtrip to Nashville,
Tried finding the new Bowling Green park as well,
Got lost on the way, stopped in Da’Ville instead.
Told them I was down in the D,
Checking out Danforth’s pool contest,
They asked me how Skater Dave did,
Everyone here gives him his props,
Dude kills it everyday, without hardly any effort,
Just turned forty-six a couple months back,
The driving force for this park getting built,
And a teacher and friend to several generations.
Old school, mid-school, new school,
He rules them all and does so with style,
Humble as can be and always has a smile,
Gives encouragement and tips to any and all,
Knows anyone and everyone near and far.
Killing time and working on my fakies,
Trying to pump ala Crash! and the other homies,
In the house that Skater Dave built,
Just a few blocks from Michigan State,
Just happy to be alive, never too late,
To enjoy your life and share the stoke,
It took me thirty-seven years, but I finally awoke,
Doing what I want to do, happy in my own skin,
Born-again skateboarder, armed with nothing but a grin,
I’ve gone back to square one, back to my roots again.