CONVERSATION WITH THE BOY

The boy is young
Reads too much science fiction
And thinks he can play forever
He is wrong, of course
There is no forever

The boy straddles the gap between
The wild-footed child and the
Confused teenager
He lives in stereotypes
And thinks he’s a rebel
The truth hides behind him
In his shadow
Waiting for his father to intervene

His father will not intervene
He is blind to the world of shadows
The boy believes in words
And walks where he is put
And thus it begins
The dark side of trust
The yes to questionable things
The following, the giving in
Because it is what it is
And where it leads

The boy was raised as a dog
And now, on the shore of
A teenage sea
He can only dog paddle
Unsure, untrained
Looking for a dry place
The boy is confused, blinded by the salty water
Hoping for someone to call him home
And the call comes
From the wrong home

The boy is ashamed
The boy is burning
The boy whistles in the dark
Afraid of himself
And the howling of the dog within
The boy beats his head against the desk
Flails at the air and at time itself
Goes where he is pointed
And is told it is art

I sit by the boy and listen to
His silence, the droplets of memory
You were young and foolish
And blind and unsupported, I say
And stupid, he adds
It was not your fault, I tell him
It was my choice, the boy replies
And bites his lip until
It bleeds