A Man Who Walked Through Beads

on the edge of my seat.. bout 6:30
my best behaviour on display
the only way someone else taught me
all the rain had just stopped
as I watched a man walk through beads

who is he
what does he do
where does he go

his favourite colour
his favourite show

so many questions

we’re identical
only strangers

so why were my laughs escaping
is it because I’m shy
oh…
because I wonder
am I safe… am I OK

it all feels different
foreign
unknown
but I like it
my heart is calm

something grows as each day passes
he becomes clearer, his lines shaded in
now more tangible… more real
evoking feelings a boy longed to feel

his son

I started to glow
smile every morning
face the wind head-on and out the window
of that blue Ford Ranger you spun in circles in that schoolyard

the depts we dove
wilderness we shared
limits we pushed
squinting in the drive home sun
slow-walked sidewalks cause we were bros
chapters and chapters of the good stuff

now I write poems about it

funny thing is, you would be proud
of this poem… of me
extremely I bet
and I would smile like that again

you were 100 times a man to me
a hero
a friend
a part of me
one half of the answer to who I am

your letters to me as a kid started this poem
I could say you made me a writer
so why can’t I finish the story

of the man who walked through beads