is a sheep, a boxer dog,
a lion in a jungle.
The dragon in the cave,
the phoenix in the sky,
the monkey in the trees.
He’s the quarterback of the football game,
the star of the show,
the host of the game,
and the con-artist at the gas station.
He’s the con-artist,
and yet he blurts opinions out
bluntly.
He believes in having fun,
loitering around the mall, doing nothing
at home, but he still finds the stairs
ascending to the sky.
Small words can turn into
funky colors of all shapes,
simple pencils and pens can turn
sharp and bouncy.
He taught me to keep going,
to keep treading in water,
to listen to his suggestions,
to watch him be a narcissist.
Because of him I lock
the emotions deep,
turn them into writing and there
I long for when I can tell you
lots.
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