The little man
with a red collar stripe
and cowboy khaki pants
held hislasso,
trapped
inside a shatterproof glass box.

Every day I wantedhim to snap the whip,
crack the glass,
escape into his homeland.

Ifelt responsible
for trapping him.
But truly I wasn't only worried abouthim escaping;
I wanted to see him live his life.

I watched him hourupon hour.
He never got his chance to go out,
to eat fish sticks andniblets of corn I was served for dinner,
or experience the joyous occasions Iwas bound to.
Instead,
all he did was
glare back at me throughshatterproof glass.

When we made eye contact,
he was my firstfriend.
He also was my only friend
that I could never touch.

One dayI tried to change his life.
I listened to him
he tipped over and felldown
and never was I able to stand him up again.
Deep down I heard him cryto me.
It wasn't just my imagination.
He asked me for help,
and I wantedto return the favor.
And that's exactly what I did.

For weeks I staredat him,
Lying motionless grappling his lasso.
His beige cowboy hat coveredhis hair
and almost lost his eyes from me forever.

I couldn't take itanymore.
My baby feet stomped over his shatterproof glass.
Dull crystalswere everywhere
and he went somewhere.

My friend was gone,
only hislasso left behind.