today I saw you through the face of another
boy
who did cannonballs
and ate cake,
who wore battle scars
from his fort in the woods,
with poison ivy dotting his arms,
and I felt the vacancy sign
silently sway
in the breezy front porch
of my own bare arms
that will never hold you.
as my autumn approaches
i wonder who you would have been,
and i picture the curious eyes
searching,
and smell the murky odor of nature
lingering in your tussled hair.
it is in other
boys
that i can see you
and feel the deep pit of remorse
for days
not celebrated
with pop-up Hallmark cards
of Woody and Buzz
and watch you
cannonball
toward the girls
and laugh as you make them shriek
with wanton
joy.
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