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


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



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