had i thought it was going to be like this i may have done something different.
maybe i’d have gone and laid in that creek - touched more rocks - stared more at clear skies - looked at their faces a bit longer.
but. i’ll tell you.
if i went back in time i’d pay a visit to that boy, brush his shoulder and sit down with that young man - and tell him it’s very different - different because of my choices.
not because of the environment like he will think.
i’d pick his brain, on tall things.
and i’d listen to him bc later i will ignore him - in fact, go the other way.
i’d say silently, “young man, it’s all not what you’re thinking”. a ruined dream sooner turned nightmare.
but i’d listen. listen to wise words.
and i’d kiss him on the forehead.
but i would not tell him. i would listen hard, bc he feels i know something he doesn’t.
we’d watch oceans after the long drive - toss the ball around - shoot bee bee guns - wear vinegar and dirt - forgive time - we’d hang the sun above us - sweat angry booze - be bare chested - and burn our skin on that sun - whistle the verve with blades of spring grass - be lost in home - and i swear i would not tell him - not a thing.
i’d listen to him laugh, to remember – i’d listen to him cry, to see what it is to feel.
most of all - i’d beg him to hold on tight - hold on really tight, to his .
and then i’d breathe it in a glass bottle, and set it to sea.
because if it’s one thing that should be lost and never found, it’s that boy.