Jay and I
he and I talked for hours underneath street lamps,
two 4th graders sneaking out bottom floor windows to talk about it all,
laughing louder and louder until porch lights came on,
sitting in Indian style under the flooded orange glow of broken curfews,
“How tall were the buildings in NYC?”
“Why were the kids such jerks on the baseball team?”
“How can we steal a Playboy from the Mobil station?”
two kids clashing against a New Hampshire backdrop,
we belonged to nothing but our imagination,
our dreams spilling out without regret, without filters,
without the chance of failing,
we knew nothing which made everything possible,
we shot rocks like hope from homemade slingshots,
we soared high above the tops of the Pines,
into an invented unknown we jumped without looking
we packed our backpacks with fearless weight,
trusted each other without question,
we chased fire flies while pretending we were fireworks,
exploding into the brisk autumn twilight of our youth,
it was perfect,
we were perfect,
in my 30’s now,
I hold my chest with eyes closed,
doing everything in my power to reach back to a time where I held no fear,
a time when my pockets were lined with gentle thoughts,
time was just a circle with numbers on it back then,
I stare at his picture, smile, and wipe my eyes,
knowing that without him,
I wouldn’t have the memories I count on remembering,
the foundation he helped create,
and a friendship that has never faded away
By: Bryan Matthew Boutwell / LiveFiction.net
