lost boy announcement on the loudspeaker. we’ve stood here, surveying ice
cream through these glass doors. found boy announcement. overhear worker say
some kids just get lost in thought while staring at sweets, then panic when they
realize they’re alone. i go home and use my computer to take pictures of myself
with my shirt off.

i’ve been doing this lately: taking my shirt off. the first time is on a walk with you
in your suburb and you don’t think it’s hot. i like the feeling only because it isn’t
me. 

you’re asleep on some beach in new jersey. this is the first friday we’ve spent
apart in forever. later you call and mumble at me, sleepy and headachy, feeling
lame because your little brother took your friend out. i’m still shirtless, staring at
a clean laundry pile on my bedroom floor. hurts to blink, think i have a stye. i
look up symptoms … sensation of a foreign body. 

i’ve seen my shirtless, uncool dad walk his electric lawnmower and i feel like i
have his chest hair. only he has his shoulder twitch. on the way to the autobody
repairman a couple years ago it gets out of control, comes with rapid-fire
questions.

i feel sick sitting next to him and i don’t know when it started. i’ve liked him a few
times. 1985: outside the spectrum, i almost accidentally switch families. walking
down winding ramp after circus my dad catches himself mistaking another boy
for me.

09/24/2010

Posted on 09/24/2010
Copyright © 2024 Paul Marino