Here is a park, this carpet of green
Bordered by asphalt, with a crystal blue
Lake at its heart.
This is an act--the subtle art of letting go.
The wind carries the noise of the geese and ducks
As we crouch at the water's edge,
Peering in for hidden discoveries.
Here is mud beneath our sneakers.
A few paces behind us, the wet brown
Transforms into red clay.
You will pick up a rock from inside
The cool water and bid me watch
As you skip it across the surface.
Skssh--skssh--skssh-skssh-splash!
You'll grin and laugh;
Later, I will see you in my mind's eye
And think about how much I miss it.
Now, however, you will bump
My shoulder and ask me to throw one.
It won't be as good as yours.
Skssh--plop! Or maybe it was just plop!
Memories are so delicate.
Then a shout and here, a chaos of limbs
As we scramble up the grassy slope.
A breeze will pick up and in the glint
Of the still-morning sun, you will
Look like the king of the world,
Even if you only beat me to the top.
If all of life were a novel, this passage
Would be scuffed and worn by
All the slow days I spent re-reading it,
Closing my eyes to relive this.
It should be tattooed on my skin
How you pulled forth this interpretation
Of me, this daring and caring boy once lost.
We will balance on the lake's decaying pier,
Arms extended as I cover your steps.
Here is a bond elastic--I will use these words
To forgive you for the days we don't speak.
What is youth if you leave it behind unedited?
We characterized each other in subtle ways,
Unknowingly plotting an inseparable course.
This clay will stick to our shoes like us to each other,
Brothers not by birth but by fate and choice.
We will lounge on the picnic tables, spent
And laying on the flat of our backs.
You will think of a shared song and we will
Sing it at the top of our lungs, all breathy
And brash and trembling falsetto.
Here is a comfort that lies in trust,
The willingness to let another see those soft
And neglected parts of you.
I will keep this treasure close to my heart.