Ten verbs have been removed from the first part of this poem. Select the verb that you think fits best in each gap, being prepared to justify your choice.
When I’m old, I’ll say the summer
they built the stadium. And I won’t mean
the council. I’ll be the memory
of how, open to sun and the judgement
of passing eyes, young builders
golden and melting on hot pavements,
the toast of Cardiff. Each blessed lunchtime
Westgate Street, St. John’s, the Hayes
were with fit bodies;
the jokes, these jeans were fuzz stretched tight
over unripe peaches. Sex objects,
and happily . When women
by, whistling, they’d
in warm smiles, browning slowly, loving
the light. Sometimes they’d men
looking them over. It made no odds;
they never ; it was too heady
being young and and in the sun.