Читать книгу Red Rover Red Rover - Bob Hicok - Страница 15

Inside job

He talks more than a river.

Louder than a gun

doing the times tables.

Sometimes he smells

like three-day-old scallops.

Sometimes four.

Whatever anyone says to him

is reason to say something

about himself.

I avoided him in the halls.

I avoided him as an idea

of what a person might be.

I once saw him up ahead of me

and turned around.

I was in New York,

he was in Boston.

That’s how good my eyesight is.

That’s how much he made me think,

Here is a man

who’d trim his toenails

in an airport.

Then I saw him in a park with a boy.

The boy was wearing a helmet.

The boy could barely stand on his own.

The boy’s eyes always looked up

and his head bobbed

as if studying to be a balloon.

This is Trevor, the man said,

this is my son. The man smiled.

Though our faces are no good

at putting out forest fires,

his happiness could have,

his pride. This is my son.

He said it twice

as if I hadn’t heard,

as if making sure

I would spread the news.

I will spread the news.

A man who smells

like three-day-old scallops

has a son named Trevor

who will never live on his own.

Now when I see the man

I ask after his health.

I want him to live forever.

I want the moon to stop

sneaking away from us

a little at a time.

I want him to forgive me

for giving up

on looking into his eyes.