April 07, 2013
When you were in the 9th grade and I was in the 7th you were
a crossing guard keeping order at Junior High School number 3. No one
was disobedient when you wore that wide yellow strap across your chest -
no one bruised another, caused trouble, or so much as threw a stone -
no one cracked a joke about you, a man in uniform. How did
that yellow vest feed your soul to let you know someday you'd
fly a plane just to feel the power of a strap across your chest. What
liberation - to know how to be in charge - strong and capable -
flying through gunfire and lightning again and again to come back to me.
Although we were so young, when you were 14 and I was 12, how good you were
to give me the safe guard of your love. How smart I was to receive it.