I remember we'd lay
on your out dated teal couches
that looked like scales on a lizard,
worn from over use
and tickly on my back.
We’d just look up
at the unfinished basement ceiling
enjoying the quiet.

I remember we’d sit
in front of the glowing TV
drinking cans of Coke or shoveling down bags of Dorrtios
at three in the morning. And then we’d
burn off our energy with a quick
wrestling match in our homemade ring,
almost as if we were bickering brothers.
And of course I’d always lose,
being the person on the bottom
pinned down, both of us snickering
at your delight and my defeat.
And then we’d end up on our backs again,
laying in the middle of floor- the basement listening to us
pant and sweat and laugh.

I remember we would always talk, too.
We’d gab on about yesterday’s baseball game,
fascinated with Prince Fielder’s twenty seventh homerun of the season,
or brag about winning our track meets by
beating our middle school rivals.
But it was always fun to fantasize over the girls-
Especially Sarah Johnson
whom we both had a massive crush on.
It was her dreamy blonde hair, we agreed!
Or her charming blue eyes or tempting beauty.

I remember we’d get serious
too, sometimes.
I remember the secrets you told me,
and no one else. How you relied on me,
to keep them only between us.
And I remember the secrets
I told you, because I couldn’t trust
anyone else knowing those things.





I remember all this, and it
sort of brings on a sorrowful sneer.
Late on a Friday night, I lay here-
In my creaky old house, and
cold bed that bites at me.
I stare up at the ceiling with
my sheets tugged up to my neck,



and I wonder…


what happened?