The Red Boy

I watched a boy die

a boy my own age

chasing a ball into the road

as I had done, ten thousand times over

 

I read somewhere

that we are 60% water

from what I saw

that is not true

 

it was glistening

red and roaming

free

under the setting sun

 

I have recurring dreams

of an office, just an office

where I went, willingly

knowing the damage that I was doing

 

just an office, nondescript

in a building, nondescript

in a city, nondescript

 

knowing the damage that I was doing

 

to myself

to my bones and my eyes and my stomach and my soul

if we have one

 

even at the time I knew

that there was a hole in my pocket

with pieces of myself

falling through and

 

I should look forward

I know that

and I do

but, the dreams

 

and when I wake with a shiver

I think of that boy

when I wake with a shiver

he is born again