Young Wolf

For Peter, who is gravely ill in ICU with viral meningitis.  I am holding you in the light, my old friend. 

politics

sunk our adult friendship

my insistence

black lives matter

collided against

your thin blue line

shower of defensive red sparks

yet you still cross my mind

I remember

15 year old boy

dirty blond hair

spilling over one blue eye

snaggle-tooth smile

crushing hard on another girl

on our island of misfit toys

can’t remember when

ground started to shift

on tectonic plates

pushing us onto the same continent

until we were stealing first kisses

in blue twilight

mosquitoes feasting on our legs

seamless transition

from you + I

to us

your hackles raised

police dog on alert

every time he was near

didn’t need to tell you

you instinctively knew

something was wrong

the way he looked at me

talked to me

baited me

punished me

for my rage-filled self-emancipation

in my tweens

sometimes I would still fold up

an origami fortress

after he was gone

a lesser boy

would have trembled

grown man three times his age

puffing out his chest

pissing in the dirt

but you growled deep in your throat

loud enough

long enough

to make it clear

that neither one of us

planned to lie down in supplication

bare our necks to him

thank you for that

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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