The Boy

​I see the boy
sitting by himself in the park
He looks nervous twitching
fingers scratching at his crotch
 
He’s there to meet some friends
They come in an instant
The boy stands there silently as
all his friends converse
 
I see them walk away
I follow them
down lonely streets filled
with wild action
 
The boy and his friends
hurry after the moment
I follow them through
the alley where drugs are sold
 
One of his friends suggests
they buy some drugs
from the nice older gentleman
with his hands in his pockets
 
A toothpick set on his tongue
the man passes
a bag of something naughty
to the kids they are off
 
I keep a close eye on the boy
He stays hidden in the pack
as they stroll across the bridge
vanish around the back
 
They descend the steps
I follow them to the edge
I know the boy would someday
find himself drowning
 
I watch them from atop
the bridge as they each
take a turn smoking the pipe
This isn’t pot I smell
 
It smells bitter someone coughs
Someone is talking fast
Someone is talking faster
I see their twitching bodies
 
The boy sits there and stares at
the river as I stand on the ledge
He’s quiet
He seems lonely
 
I watch them talk
like nothing in the world
matters at this moment
The boy is silent
 
He watches as three fishes
flee from the menacing snake
which slithers
on the surface of the wakes
 
The boy is so quiet
His friends speak of dreams
The boy takes the pipe
flies away or so it seems
 
He disappears down
a burnt maze of ashes
He runs as his approaching destiny
devours him like cereal
 
I watch him fall
from the sky in a visceral
kaleidoscopic tumble
Confetti is everywhere
 
I stand there on the bridge
The boy comes down fast
crashes into the river
I feel an abrupt sadness
 
and anger
when his friends keep smoking
because they are just too
fucked up to care
 
The boy is flailing
thrashing his arms & legs
His friends couldn’t even fathom
that this might happen to them