The boys of Del Valle Park are remembered through a poem that begins with childhood play beneath a great jet, when seven-year-old boys imagined soaring through the sky, diving and rolling, crashing and walking away as if they would never die. As they grew, games turned from jets to bats, balls, hoops, and football, and adults told them they had great potential and that the rest was up to them. Innocent days of running in the sun gave way to duty when fathers told their sons to be strong, tough, and manly, though what once seemed like play became deadly real. In the end, they are imagined as having returned to rest together beneath that same jet, content in death yet asking parents to bring children, read their names, tell the truth, and remember that the toys boys play with could someday make men die.