You probably can’t tell just from looking
but I’ve got sequoia bark covering the heart-wood of me–
flame resistant time-grown armor.
years and years ago,
him with his holiday belly,
he had lighter-flint-fingers,
always trying to light some spark in me,
he was honor-bound, friend of the family,
highly/Highly/HIGHLY recommended.
I’ve had a lot of time since,
a lot of time to wonder where a fire like that starts burning,
what makes up the tender of such a blazing desire.
but that don’t get me anywhere.
it don’t change the facts of it.
Sundays he’d pick me up,
we’d get lunch,
one red fall afternoon he even taught me to drive,
–with chattering bones clacking in my jaw,
–I moved forward inches–inches at a time.
–him reaching over to correct the course as needed.
and then we’d play games,
watch movies; always what I wanted to watch,
and he had walls and walls of movies,
more than I could imagine watching in a lifetime,
much less on quiet Sunday afternoons.
he was my friend.
he had lighter-flint fingers.
we were playing some fighting game on his dust-drowned Sega:
“my friend has this program that will tell you what you’ll look like when you’re older.
I just need to put in your measurements now.”
I got that coaster-pit-gut-wrench you normally get before freefall,
“I don’t think–I don’t want–I dunno.“
he had lighter-flint-fingers,
little sparks flying along trying to catch me alight,
but I hid my tender behind sequoia bark,
and maybe, maybe one day I’ll grow tall and wide,
I doubt sequoias blame wildfires for what they try to burn.
