12.13.11
I see a boy on the train
From my childhood.
The commute becomes
Ghostly.
He’s too far to reach
But I wouldn’t anyway.
Though I’ve spoke his name
Countless times
I don’t know him.
Today is that date
Long thought about
And planned
Now emptied and plain.
No anxious scurry to the airport
No kisses goodbye.
Just an appointment
A computer
A commitment made
Countless times.
What if I reached out?
Could I utter the essence
Of lazy days in trees?
How could I express
That Christmas party
Where I chased him
And grabbing
His father scolded me?
Such shame I possess.
And imagine what he keeps...
The shy, quiet boy around the bend
With his interrogative mother
And cat-eyed sister
A mere dark, softened shadow
Of his father.
A deep well of grief
Lies behind his shiny, black pupils
Concealed by his cold, obedient
Statue of a face.
Fearful of masks
A boy
Who now ought to be
A man
Trades one mould for the next
And in rapidly re-disguising
Acts as though
He is alive.
Speeding the shedding of skins
So he never once knows them
Nor does he know his loved ones
Nor do they know him.
A fierce man
Determined
Full of absolutes
Awaits his love with certainty.
But only at the final moment
Does he lift his head
Erect
Distracted and weighted
Bedridden
Doubting his regiments
Still too narrow to split
Then “pop” goes his hip.
Every injury is fleeting
If you will it to be.
But it’s easy to stay a coward.
It’s natural
To preserve
What you think you need.
So, go.
No one knows you.
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