He bounces the ball in my direction –
and I bounce it back to him
____
Our days and nights consist of jumping on backyard trampolines, frequent sleepovers, and adolescent shenanigans –
[bonding, as young boys do] …
bikes, record players, and competitive games -
Our afternoons are freshly squeezed lemonade followed by laughter on the porch as the day leans into evening and the cicadas begin their nightly music –
Best friends are like your favorite song on repeat
____
It’s now late morning and I rest my head upon his shirtless stomach as we youthfully lay together -
near our homes in the green fields, we lounge lazily among the blooming and blossoming flora of colors magnificent – they are breathtaking…
I look at the vibrant flowers that surround us – (their hues are exquisite!) -
and, reluctantly, begin to grasp – to understand - the nature of their temporary beauty…
12 bleeds delicately into 13 – as 13 bleeds (more forcefully) into 14…
[the bouncing balls are discarded for baseball cards, more-advanced video games and locked doors at night so the parents don’t accidentally walk in]
____
The names of girls in colorful letters, then, begin to embrace the covers of our classroom notebooks –
He and I sit at lunch and write expressive verse (as we always have) -
Today, I write about leaves –
when it is time, the leaves disconnect and parachute onto the ground below – they slowly wither, and they then blow away into the directionless wind…
This is what leaves do – this is what leaves always do…
____
Childhood sleepovers bleed hesitantly into fist bumps, deepening voices, and sitting feet apart while sitting on the couch and watching movies at his place –
We no longer sit next to each other at the dinner table –
he is across from me – and I am not adjusting well to that…
____
His focus is elsewhere –
…I am looking in his direction and nowhere else [I am focused] –
I notice he smiles less-innocently than before at the pretty girls in homeroom –
while I am looking in his direction – and I am not looking anywhere else…
____
It’s cheap alcohol in unrevealing paper bags (his older brother scored!) –
in the parking lot of the grocery on an early Saturday night –
his arm around her shoulders
his arm around her shoulders…
14 bleeds into 15 and I no longer rest my head upon his shirtless stomach – as we no longer lay together in green fields of flowers and splendor
____
we are all hanging out in the back of his older brother’s truck –
talking shit and stepping into adulthood, sloppily –
[he looks at me briefly, as if I’m an afterthought or as if I am an inconvenient memory] -
She is wearing his favorite denim jacket…
[he looks at her as I have always looked at him – as I look at him now]
She is wearing his favorite denim jacket...
____
I know what I am – and know he is something different
____
I bounce the ball in his direction –
and it does not return to me
Photo: Jimmy Broccoli
